Acquisition
by ceREMoniouswords
Summary: Under the alias Marie, a woman from London travels to Birmingham on a mission of redemption. For some people, redemption is synonymous with revenge. Pathologically striding toward her goal, she does not anticipate the Peaky Blinders- or their suspicious, domineering leader, Thomas Shelby. Family, crime, and romance. Slow burn Tommy/OC. M for language, violence, and sexual content.
1. Chapter 1: Alice and Robert, the Bakers

_Anja – ahn-yuh_

 _Bringing goodness. Gracious. Merciful._

 _Sonja – sown-yuh_

 _Wisdom._

-o-

My mother and father were very lucky. In the mornings they would take tea and in the evenings they would break bread. At night, they would share a bed and dream together. On Sundays they would walk along the edges of the backyard hand in hand. Through the years, they would create four beautiful children with one another. They made a good team; my father was the figurehead and my mother was the support and combined they were the body.

On weekdays my mother would sit in the far corner of my father's office and paint, listening carefully to my father and the business he conducted. Her hazel eyes were sharper than a barber's blade, and no man with half of a brain that did business with the family dared to question her presence.

Her ears were tentative, more persistent than the lapping waves of her homeland. There were times that I would sit by her side, watching her careful strokes or my father's work. Between business meetings my mother would go to my father's side and hold his shoulder securely, murmuring her own thoughts with great urgency.

The only soft spots on my mother were her hands and her heart. She was the sun and the wind at the same time. My father was the harbor.

-o-

When I arrived in Birmingham, one of the first things I did was find the bakery that my sister had written about. A large purse that I slung over my shoulder and a travel bag that was strapped to my chest proved to be mildly cumbersome right up until the very end of my journey. Many eyes followed me from the moment I arrived, but I noticed a seldom few who chose to whisper in my wake.

Speculation about a woman traveling alone by foot, the sun beating down on my black clothes, and the lackluster of my light eyes followed me. I was not in London any longer, a place where I could often go unnoticed in many crowds. I passed tailors, blacksmiths, barbershops, produce stands, and bars before I came across the bakery that was wedged between a butcher and a sweets shop. The display window had three perfectly frosted cakes in front, just as Anja had described. The letter was curled in my hand.

" _Sonja, I've known you since the day mother brought you into this world. I hope you trust me when I say you'd love it here. I know decorating has only ever been a hobby for you and that you took dearly to working with father, but I often imagine that it is you who ices the three scrumptious cakes that the kids and I pass every day. Admittedly, they have less attention to detail than you do, but they are still beautiful._

" _Anita and Anton gurgle in absolute joy when we pass the brilliantly decorated window, and I stop there with them everyday on our early afternoon walks. I daydream that when they are older, their tiny hands will curl into my skirt, making pleas to stop and pick up sticky buns._ "

Why Anja was so committed to those A names, I would never know. Personally, I would have loved to see my niece and nephew named after any of our grandparents. The most fondness for those names I had was that they were both arguably Swedish, like our own names and our mothers, who was a Romani from Sweden herself. Another sentiment I was apprehensive of was the fact that Anja believed I would love it in Birmingham. Looking around me, I saw smoke and mud. London always left a bittersweet taste in my mouth. At the least, Birmingham was quieter.

I had trudged into the bakery after rereading Anja's letter for another time and admiring the window for several minutes. Of the three cakes, only two were decorated. Without any regard to the people who were inhabiting the shop- two men and their wives, four children, and an elderly woman- I put down my bags at an empty table and filed myself into the short line at the counter. My eyes glazed over as I regarded the sugar-topped scones and cinnamon rolls.

"Miss, what can I get for you?"

The woman who asked me had kind brown eyes, aging chestnut hair, and a guarded husband who was evaluating me with mistrust.

Smiling to try to ease the tension, I replied, "May I please have a sticky bun? Also, might I ask how much a three layer cake with plain white frosting is?"

"Well, love, the sticky bun will be seven pennies and the cake would cost you ten shillings without the decorating. Fifteen if you change your mind," she went and grabbed a piece of bakers parchment and plucked up the treat. After quickly procuring the seven pennies, I carefully counted out fifteen shillings on the counter with a _click_ each. The balls of her cheeks wound up in a smile, "So you'll take the full frostin', I suppose. Which one did you have in mind, then?"

I shook my head, "I'm looking for employment. I'd like the plain cake, but I was hoping you'd let me decorate it." The woman behind the counter unsurely looked at her husband, who stepped forward with his head already beginning to shake back and forth. Having been the one to deal with applicants for a position before, I knew the words he was ready to say to me.

"Before you turn me away," I piped in quickly, "I want to make you a deal."

"Sorry, lass. I don't often make deals with strangers," he quipped.

"I don't often ask people to make deals with strangers," I urged.

With crossed arms, he took a step closer to the counter and I. Looking down his nose at me he asked, "Then what's the occasion?"

I bit my lip. Though the truthful words wanted to spill from me, instead I said, "There's no occasion besides desperately being in need of work."

His arms uncrossed and I knew I had won his ear.

"Fine," he relented, "What's your deal?"

"If this cake sells by the end of the day," I began, "You get to keep my fifteen shillings and what you make off the cake, but you give me position in this bakery. If it doesn't sell, I'll take my job hunt elsewhere."

The man frowned through his thick mustache, and watched my shoulders shrug. Keeping my chin up and my eyes steady, I waited patiently before he said, "I'm not cleaning up any mess you make. And neither is Alice."

Nodding I felt my stomach jump at the next chip in his resolve, "I wouldn't expect you to. I also bring my own piping materials."

He was still as I went to my carry on bag and pulled out my apron, made of simple dark blue cotton, and a smaller bag, which held my dying ingredients and my piping tips.

He still did not look convinced. He glanced at his customers, who made a point to look away hurriedly with the exception of the wide-eyed children.

I took him for a traditional man who would take pity on a woman in need and I found myself earnestly saying, "Mister Baker, I've been mourning my father for a week's time. Without him, I've come to Birmingham looking for a new start. I have only just arrived, but I am ready to work. I'll start out on the lowest wage for a place to put my skills to use and a corner to sleep in."

"Robert…" the woman named Alice took her hand and wrapped it loosely around the man's hulking forearm, "Let's give the lass a chance. With Jack married and moved out, things have been different. We have got a bed to spare and work to be done."

"You've got guts, girl," Robert finally said, "You're lucky my wife has taken to you. She's hardheaded herself."

"Marie," I insisted, "Please call me Marie."

"No," he replied, "We won't be getting familiar unless the cake sells." With this, he disappeared through a door before I could respond.

Alice beamed over the counter, "It's why he married me. The hardheaded nature, that is. Now listen, Robbie is sweet. After all, we are bakers. But he is no joker. If you want to work, you've got to sell this cake. You're lucky, because it is only quarter past eight and we'll have many more customers today."

My head nodded many times, "I'll need frosting, a spinning decorating platform, granulated sugar, and a table for my tools if you can spare it."

Right then Robert came back through the door with fresh bread in a basket, "You can have it all, we have a station set up in the back for decorating."

Before he could disappear again, I said, "I was hoping to set up in the front room. Alice said herself that you'll have many more customers today. I've already generated gossip by being a stranger here. Let's set the town ablaze with rumors about my decorating demonstration. It'll give me the best shot at selling."

Robert grunted, but once again disappeared through the doors. When he came back, he had a small wooden table held in one hand and a spinning platform in the other. With a _thunk_ he set the table to the far left of the counter, the platform soon after. Alice ducked out from behind the counter and went to the display window to carefully take out the plain white cake for me.

"Thank you. Thank you both for this chance. I hope to not disappoint," I called after him as he went to grab the frosting and sugar.

Just as four other customers walked through the door for their baked goods, Alice set down the cake on the platform with a wink. Reaching for two small blackboards on miniature easels and blue chalk from my bag, I set to writing two signs.

The first read, "Today's third cake coming to you soon! Come inside to witness its decoration!" It was set in the display window where the plain cake had been.

The second read, "Please stay three paces back as the decorator works." It sat several paces to the side of the table. I then ate my sticky bun, set my bags under the table and out of sight, and washed my hands. Without further delay I set out my bowls, power, and piping tips and got to mixing.

-o-

"So whatcha doing now?"

Looking up from my work, I saw the same four kids from when I arrived still sitting in the bakery.

"Shut up Katie, she's workin!" the oldest boy squawked. The bell above bakery door rang again.

Behind them, a crowd of ten or twelve people had gathered. The bakery bell had been going off frequently through the last hour and many feet had stopped to watch me work. Several of them had baked goods in their hands, much to my anticipation.

"John, don't be such a lummox," the next oldest boy said and put a hand on Katie's head while he held the youngest in his other arm, "It's her birthday."

I smiled at the rowdy kids, using the back of my hand to push a stray hair from my forehead, "Don't worry kids, I can talk and work. No need to squabble."

The boy whose name was John shot back, "We ain't squabblin'!"

I chuckled, "I had two older brothers and an older sister. We used to fight all of the time." Previously I had piped a delicate blue lace pattern halfway up the cake and I was finishing kneading a white fondant. I began rolling it out with my walnut rolling pin.

"I'm going to make a ribbon for the middle of the cake," I took a sharp blade and sliced swiftly, making two perfect lines through the fondant. The boys oo-ed softly. I then reached for my powders, my fingers nimbly dancing over their caps, "What color do you think we should make the sugar on the ribbon, Katie, was it?"

"I like the color pink," she said shyly.

"Of course you'd want that color," John scoffed.

"Pink is as good a color any," I said, putting a small amount of beet powder into a new bowl before pouring some granulated sugar in. I showed the children the contents with a raised brow before tossing it into the air and catching it again three times in a row, "How old are you today?"

"'M four!" she laughed. I grabbed a baking sheet with parchment on it and set it close for use. The bowl with the sugar still was in my grip as I looked playfully at the kids.

Taking up a measured cup of chilled water, I held it out for Katie, "Well, that makes you practically an adult. Why don't you help me and pour this water in?" She did so gladly. I thanked her and took my wooden spoon out of my apron, stirring and pouring the small excess liquid back into the cup.

The sugar was set out to dry on the pan before taking white frosting into a new bowl and putting blueberry juice into it. I made quick work of stirring it up, my eyes watching the street outside the window. The sun hung showing it to be nearing half past ten. The white became a light indigo frosting and I filled my piping bag with the new mixture.

"What're you hummin'? You've been on the same one all day"

I looked back at Katie, "Just something my mom would sing. It's a Swedish ballad about a fisherman and a mermaid." Before their tiny eyes, I began a round lace pattern on the top of the cake, "I've long forgotten the words, I'm afraid."

The tip got clogged and I swiftly began replacing it. The kids stood quietly, their eyes wide and their hands holding biscuits. It was then that I noticed adults in the bakery were looking between myself, the kids, and two men standing near the bakery entrance. They wore nice suits and caps, but I did not let myself get distracted for long. With a new tip, I began to finish the top pattern. The icing fell off the top surface to hang down the high sides of the cake. I made quick of my work, sure to not sacrifice quality for prompt completion.

With the piping complete, I shuffled up the sugar I had dyed pink and laid it out evenly on the table before picking up my prepared fondant with careful hands and laying it over the sugar. The pin pressed the sugar into the fondant with one roll and a wet brush got it ready for application.

Alice came up behind me and spoke into my ear over my shoulder, "Marie, you need to be careful with those children. They're Shelby's and their father and uncle are here in the shop."

The heart in my chest thudded at her severe tone. Still, I smiled at her and spoke softly, "You'll have to fill me in on the town gossip later, after I've sold this cake. I'm good with children." She gave me a look full of warning before going behind the counter once more to handle new customers who came in. They too regarded the two men as if they were contagious, giving them wide berth and keeping their eyes down.

With a flourish, I picked up the ribbon and then gingerly applied it to the cake in the middle. Happy with my masterpiece given the two and a half hour limit I gave myself, I wiped my hands on my apron and turned back toward the crowd with my hands crossed behind my back. Many of the on-lookers brought their hands together to clap. Alice came to stand next to me and even Robert traveled from the back of the bakery to join us. I noted that he begrudgingly was impressed with the cake and when I caught his eye, he nodded his approval. I couldn't help the smug smirk on my face.

After a moment, I brought up my hand, "Thank you for coming and watching me work today. It's been my pleasure to entertain. I'd also like to thank Robert and Alice for allowing me to use space in their lovely bakery for this display. I think they also deserve an applause." The crowd brought their hands together once more. Robert took Alice around the shoulder and they smiled at their customers.

When they wound down, I spoke once more with my hands out in front of me, palms up, "From your response I get the sense that you like the finished product. However!"

My audience waited quietly and I help one hand out to Katie, "The real judge today will be the birthday girl."

"Me?" she pointed at her chest.

"Yes, you," I smiled slightly, "What do you say about the cake, Katie? Do I get passing marks?"

Her tiny finger went to her chin and she stepped close to the table to inspect the cake. I shared a look with the crowd and pulled at the collar of my shirt. A few laughs filled the room. I put my fingers to my lips and looked expectantly at Katie.

"Do I get to taste it?" she asked innocently.

My smile slipped, "If it were my cake to cut, you could have the first piece." A sewing pin could have dropped and deaf ears would hear it. I watched as her chin crumpled and her eyes began to well. Just as her lip started to quiver and her nose watered, her oldest brother puffed up his little chest and got ready to let me have it.

"We'll take it."

The two men, Shelby's as it would seem, had cut through the crowd. They took off their caps one after the other and it became clear that they were very handsome men.

"Dad!" the two boys cried. Katie's tears dried and I watched as she instantly attached herself to the leg of the younger man.

"Do you mean it?" she asked her father.

"'F course," I watched a toothpick roll around in his mouth as he spoke, "Anyfin' for my girl." At the sight, my knees went a little soft and the sides of my eyes prickled.

He straightened up and looked at Robert, who nodded his head and greeted him, "Mister Shelby and Mister Shelby. A good day to the boff of you."

"And a good day to you, Mr. Daniels," the older one said. The crowd that had formed before has almost instantly begun to evaporate once the older Shelby brothers spoke up. Besides the Shelby's, the bakery couple, and myself, only a few others remained. I watched Robert and the younger Shelby man break off to talk price. Alice stuck to her husband's side as if the Shelby would unhinge his jaws and snap up her husband with his teeth.

My eyes wondered to the older Shelby and I was struck with his blue eyes that were watching me. I felt myself flinch, but did not look away before nodding. Then I began to clean my workstation. The heels of his shoes clicked on the bakery hardwood floor under him as he made his way to me.

"That's a proper trade you've got there," his voice was smooth, like churned milk, and gave nothing away.

"Thank you," I replied easily. With all of my dirty supplies in a large bowl to get washed, I plucked up my bag and began packing what I could.

"What brings you to Birmingham?"

"The railroads are quite accessible and trains are mighty," I said lightly without looking up.

He hollowly chuckled, "That is one way to avoid answering a question."

I also laughed, my own matching his, "I'm not dodging your questions, Mister."

"Then why does it seem that way, Miss?"

"Why whould you think something brought me here?" I asked.

He paused and I peaked up at him though my eyelashes. His face hardened, "Perhaps because you ask questions like that. Perhaps because of the how you struck a deal in order to stay in town. Or perhaps because you targeted a Shelby on your first day here." The last point he said in a gravely, threatening way.

My head reeled up toward him in disbelief, my mouth slightly open and my brows furrowed. I stood up straight and aimed my body toward him. Quickly putting two and two together, I pointedly threw my head toward sweet Katie, who was still holding onto her father, before responding lowly, "I may not know anything about how things run around here, or anything about your family. But I do know that why I came to Birmingham is none of your business and that I would never, _never_ target a child."

He nodded, "Now that's an honest answer. You truly don't know how we run Birmingham."

Ice took my fingers and toes, and suddenly I was overcome with the feeling that I was in way over my head.

"The name's Thomas Shelby. That over there is my brother John Shelby. You'd do good to remember whose town you're in."

I reigned in my attitude as best I could, much to the poorly-hidden, smug amusement of Thomas Shelby. The Shelby's were dangerous, that much I understood from the man's words. Still, I kept my chin up and tried not to purse my lips at all.

"My name is Marie. Just Marie is fine, and I hope you realize that any 'targeting' you're seeing is pure coincidence," I added more kindly gathering my dye powders to put them back in their old, rickety wooden box. My eyes traveled between him and the table as I did so, "I also hope you remember that the owners of this establishment are good, innocent people."

He tilted his head back, "Now why would you think I'd wish the Daniels' any harm?" His cool eyes never left my face.

"I recognize a threat when I hear one, even if it is veiled," I said with a tight, closed mouth smile, "I hope you and your family enjoy the cake. Mrs. and Mr. Daniels are quite good from what I hear."

We stared at one another for quite a few moments. I admired his sharp cheekbones and eyelashes. He was a very good-looking man. If it weren't for his suspicious disposition, I could have admitted to myself that I found him to be attractive. He was clearly intelligent, cunning, and protective of his family; all traits that I related to.

Instead, I found myself annoyed that he had come into the shop at all, regardless of the fact that his brother's purchase had earned me a job. It became quiet as Alice, Robert, and the other Shelby's then noticed the tense air between the man and I.

As if waiting for me to break, the Shelby's eyes remained where they were while he mentioned loudly, "I think Marie will make a great addition to your bakery, Mr. and Mrs. Daniels. Do you think you could walk us out, Robert? We need to discuss this month's payment." With that Thomas motioned for the kids to file out. Katie filtered out last, sending me a wave and a smile which I returned. John nodded to Alice and I before clapping Robert on the shoulder and leading him out. Thomas gave me one last look before leaving. The weight of the Shelby's left my shoulders.

The shop went silent, which was odd to me at such a late morning hour.

"You shouldn't have done that," Alice said quietly.

"Done what?" I asked.

"Started with Thomas Shelby."

"I didn't start with him."

"I know a cross face when I see one, and you both were looking stormy. Or as stormy as Thomas Shelby gets before he's slicing someone open or having someone else do it for 'im," her voice got a little higher and her eyes were glued to the door her husband had left through, "The Peaky Blinders demand full respect. They're a violent bunch, Marie."

"You mean they're a gang," I replied.

"Yes, and you just got spotted in their leaders crosshairs," she looked at me severely then before offering me a damp cloth, "Come, let's get you cleaned up and get this cake in a box. They are sending someone to fetch it at four."

-o-

Robert had been gone for a half an hour, which gave me time to clean my mess and for me to help Alice box the cake.

I also had a chance to change out of my clothing, since they had gotten messy despite the apron. All of my mourning clothing got left in London at my father's empty home. All I had with me was the clothing on my back and two other outfits. I opted for my off-white work blouse with a dark red skirt that buttoned from my navel to my ankles.

When Robert returned, he looked tired and ran his hand over his mustache. He hung a sign in the bakery door that read, "Will be Back in 5" before ushering us into the back room. Alice asked him what was wrong several times before he told me the news.

"What do you mean I can't stay with you?" I asked quietly, a deep frown on my face.

Robert looked at me sympathetically for the first time since I met him, "Thomas Shelby said the Peaky Blinders would set you up with a living arrangement. If they don't contact you tonight about yer lodgings, you can stay for the night, but that is all we can offer."

Alice looked grim, "You have to understand that we pay the Shelby's to protect our store. Without their protection, we're weak to the other gangs in the area. They are unkind."

"And the Shelby's are kind?" I quipped.

"Kinder than the others," Robert said in a steely tone, "And they do not offer forgiveness."

I nodded slowly and mumbled, "I knew I shouldn't have even spoken to the devil." Resting my head in my hand, I reevaluated my situation. Anja's letter that lead me to the bakery burned in my skirt pocket.

"I'm surprised you haven't put me out yet," I finally said, "I understand that employing me is now out of the picture. Still, thank you both for today-"

Robert gave a short laugh, "Oh, I never said anything about not employin' ye. Thomas Shelby said I'd be a fool not to hire you, and he'd be right. You brought more people into our bakery today than I ever would have expected. A cake sale to a Shelby is as good as any way to credit our goods. They paid with a pound."

It was shocking to hear that money had been so shamelessly thrown. It just went to show just how wealthy the Shelby's were. And money is power.

But, it went to assure me a job. Looking to Alice to see if it was true, I became elated. She grinned, silently congratulating me. Many thanks spilled from my mouth and I stuck out my hand to shake on it. Though Robert thought it odd, he smacked his hand into mine and sealed the deal.

His face got stern again, "I don't pay slackers though. I'm putting you straight to work."

I saluted him, "Yes, sir!"

"Good, then. Let's get this shop back up again."

I was determined to confront Thomas Shelby about the whole ordeal. If he thought I was paying a large sum to keep lodgings in this town, he must have also thought of me as someone who laid golden eggs. Though I would be inheriting a good sum from my father, I intended on saving a large amount of it for a time when I would have people to take care of. I swore silently to Anja that I would not let her down. No. As soon as it made sense, I would talk to this Thomas Shelby. Who knew, perhaps he would even be of value to me.

-o-

 _Would you please skim the authors notes?_

I hope you've enjoyed the beginning of my newest FF endeavor.

If I ever reach **TEN** reviews for a chapter before the next one comes out, **I will randomly select one reviewer to receive an exclusive preview of the next chapter in their private messages.** If you wish to leave a review anonymously, but still wish to be a part of the drawing, include an email with your review in which I can send you the preview.

Reviews are important to writers like myself. Your feedback is invaluable; it will help me improve my work.

This is going to be a Tommy/Original Character story. Please note that I haven't gotten all of John Shelby childrens names. I know one is named Katie _(mentioned in season 2 episode 1)_ and I figured that John was likely to name a John Jr. As I watch season 3 (I JUST FINISHED EPISODE 2, WHAT THE HELL!), I'm going to eagerly watch for their names. I will correct this chapter as the opportunity arrives.

Thank you for your time.

Sincerely,

Rem


	2. Chapter 2: Nathan, the Butcher's Son

_I swore silently to Anja that I would not let her down. No. As soon as it made sense, I would talk to this Thomas Shelby. Who knew, perhaps he would even be of value to me._

-o-

 _Felix – fee-licks_

 _Favored by luck_

 _Rhys – rhee-ss_

 _Enthusiasm._

-o-

For my twelfth birthday, my father gave me a watch. With awe, I ran my fingers along the cool silver and the ridges of the engraving. When I clicked on the latch, the front sprung open to reveal the clock's face. The seconds hand clicked faithfully as time moved on.

"Go on and push the latch again."

Dad's green eyes gleamed at my peaked curiosity. Another click sounded as I followed his instructions. The back shell of the watch opened as well, revealing a small black and white family portrait. Mother and father stood side by side in the right of the frame; he held her open palm to his heart. To their left my two brothers held their chins up. My brother Felix, who towered over all of us, had one hand on Rhys' shoulder and another on the top of my head. My own hand in the photo was threaded into Anja's.

"It's wonderful," I whispered.

"As are you, my dear," Dad gingerly took the watch from my hands by its thin chain and clipped it back together before wrapping it into my fingers, "It's a reminder and an aid. You must always keep your time and never lose sight of your family."

"You don't need a watch to keep time, Sonja. The sun is as good as any watch."

"Mamma!" She stood in the doorway of my father's study with a warm smile, "You're up!" My father looked on with disapproval as I rushed over to bury my face in her bed gown. She smelled of sweat and sick. She also smelled like home.

-o-

I did not have to wait long for an opportunity to speak to the Shelby's. A few hours after getting back to work in the bakery, a young boy came crashing through the door, excited and out of breath.

"I've got a message for a Just Marie!" He looked expectantly at me.

I rolled my eyes unabashedly and raised a brow at the boy, "My name is Marie." He handed me a slip of paper and was gone without another word.

"What does it say?" Alice asked.

"Let's see," I responded, already knowing who had the gall to send a message to Just Marie.

' _Katie's birthday celebration at the Garrison pub. 5 sharp.'_

I crumpled the paper and tossed it into the trash, "I've been invited to the little Shelby's party. Who has a four year old's party at a pub?"

-o-

While we were hard at work throughout the day selling baked goods and pastries, Alice explained that celebrations at the Garrison were big news in town. I asked if she would be going and she laughed, explaining that a gang's pub was no place for good people who weren't seeking trouble. She also told me that neglecting an invitation from a Shelby was like signing your reputation's death warrant. She then advised me to wear my best clothes.

The bakery couple let me off an hour early at ten until four to get ready. Much to my relief their neighbor, the butcher next door, volunteered his young teenage son to escort me to the pub. While I was good with a map, ultimately I had no clue of where the Garrison was.

The Daniels' allowed me to get ready in the small spare room that would have been mine, had they allowed me to trade work in the store for board. Wearing only my white under camisole, my knickers, and my stockings, I looked critically at my only appropriate outfit. Reluctantly, I dressed in my final fresh outfit. I damned the Shelby's; I'd never gone through three sets of clothes in a day unless at least one was a disguise.

The blouse was a sophisticated piece of cream fabric with sterling silver buttons that went from a few inches below my clavicle to the bottom of my ribs. Around my neck there was careful stitching decorating the hem with winding ivy, hand done by my mother in her youth. On each shoulder an additional silver button held the blouse in place where the straps to my camisole also fell. The sleeves were loose until my forearm, where they were tailored to fit snugly. My cuffs were stiff and they ended past my wrist, curving over my hand.

The high waist skirt was made of three layers of blue silken material and fit like a glove from my thighs up. The rest of the skirt flowed down, giving me room enough to talk. I chose to put my hair up with the sharp pin I inherited, letting a few waves spill around my face. Some women wore a lot of makeup to parties, but I had never learned with the same patience they had. Instead, I opted for only a darkish pink stain on my lips. My inky eyelashes would have to do the rest.

I had no pockets to spare so I put some small money into a palm-sized black satchel that I could leave around my wrist. As a last touch, I put a three-inch blade in the lining of one my right boot. Walking at night wasn't a thing that I was afraid of, but I by no means took it lightly. I left the room, stopping at a mirror that hung in the hallway. Looking at my mother's clothes, I couldn't help but think that this too, felt like a disguise; I was the mirage of a woman who held herself with strength and composure. However, if there was one thing about a disguise that I was comfortable with, it was playing the part.

I stuck a determined look and with a whisper said to my reflection, "Sonja, you can handle the gangsters. If you can handle aggressive London business men, this only a natural progression into more dangerous currents."

The person in the mirror nodded back at me then added less surely, "Keep your head above water."

-o-

Alice said I looked lovely and Robert advised me to be careful. I took both seriously, thanking them again for their kindness. After mentioning that I was leaving all of my luggage in their spare room, I promised that I would be back that night before it got too late and that I'd be ready to work when they opened at eight in the morning. Robert shook his head and assured me that if I were late by a few hours with a hangover, he would understand and not hold it against me. I primly assured him that he needed not worry. He only hummed in response.

At a quarter to five, the neighbor's boy Nathan showed up and bashfully offered me his arm. I graciously took it, said good-bye to my new employers, and we were on our way. On that day in June of 1920, the afternoon air just hit 20 degrees Celsius. The people of Birmingham moved through the roads without taking much notice of each other. But some of them paid mind to me.

"Are you in school, Nathan?"

"No, ma'am. I haven' been to school in a few years. 'M workin'," he said.

"It must be nice to have a family business," I smiled.

The polite smile that had been on his face dropped for a moment, "I don't work with da in the shop."

The boy followed himself up quickly with, "Where are ya from Miss?"

"Oh, what kind of work, then?" my eyes narrowed.

"I do delivery work," he said, his eyes avoiding mine, "Sometimes I work liftin'."

"Hm," I mused, "It's… interesting that you don't work for your father in the butchers shop. You must be doing a good job supporting the house. I'm sure it makes your parents proud."

He didn't respond. A couple was walking toward us on the walkway. With a smile and nod, Nathan and I passed them in silence.

"What can you tell me about the Shelby's, Nathan?"

"I don't know noffin', Miss," he insisted.

"Everyone knows something about them around here, it seems. Why so nervous?"

Once again he chose not to respond, but he did look at me with wide eyes. A few beats of time passed.

"You must worry your mother sick, working with a gang," I tsked.

"No!" he exclaimed, "She don't know, Miss Marie. You can't tell her. If I do good work fer 'em, we don't have to pay so much on the shop fer their protection."

I stopped, halting him as well, "Were you asked to bring me to the pub by your employers?"

His eyes stayed glued to the sidewalk.

I sighed, exasperated, "You know, I have half a mind to go back to the Daniels'."

"Please, don't. Tommy will be upset if I don't show up wiff ya."

Evaluating his desperate eyes, I realized I couldn't tell the kid no. I began walking again and he quickly followed suit after I tugged him by the arm.

"Thank you, Miss-"

"Don't thank me quite yet," I said, "If you don't want me to have a talk with your mother, I have a few conditions."

This seemed to scare him more than anything else, "What kind of conditions? Are you gonna to tell Tommy that I told you?"

"No, but you are," I insisted, "If you're going to work an adult job with the adult gangsters, you've also are going to be a brave adult and tell your boss these things on your own."

He looked green in the face, even in the late afternoon lighting.

"That's not my only condition," I waited for his attention and then continued, "I want two favors that I can call on whenever I need them. I'm not sure what they are yet. Do we have a deal?"

We were approaching the pub and I could see that it was already bustling with activity inside.

"Deal," he finally relented. He stopped us a few paces before the entrance and turned toward me, "You're quicker than a whip, Miss Marie."

He made me laugh; I hoped he wouldn't forget it anytime soon.

I took a coin out of my purse and slipped it into his hand, "Thank you for your help, Nathan. Try to keep out of too much trouble."

He nodded gratefully, tipped his cap, and was gone around the side of the building. I assumed he was going to find Thomas Shelby, who I felt more and more to be the leader of the family-run gang.

Ignoring the leaching eyes of the men outside the pub, I pushed through the door. The strong aroma of tobacco smoke and the clothes of working men poured through the frame. The heels of my boots clicked against the hardwood floors, which matched the bar that was surrounded by people already celebrating. Inside, there were many, many men and a surprising number of women for a bar. But of course, I reminded myself, there would be plenty of women in attendance for the birthday party.

Katie and her siblings barreled through a couple of men, weaving between them like a swarm of kittens to nip. Their small bodies ran in circles around the cake. The girl of the day spotted me and smiled shyly with a wave. I returned it as I continued to move along the room with measured steps. There were a few seats unoccupied on the bar and I slipped in quietly.

My father was not much of a drinker even after my mother died and for that I had been grateful. While working with him in the family business, I had seen many of the men who worked for him or partnered with him succumb to alcoholism. No, he did not drink in sorrow or anger, but Ellis Bray would drink in celebration. Would I drink in mourning of my father or in celebration of a new job?

"What can I get for the lady tonight?"

My attention snapped back to the bar and the smiling man behind it, "Could I please have a whiskey?"

His eyebrows shot up, "A whiskey it is." He was a gentleman easily in his late thirties with brown hair, and large ears and a nose to match. Based on his age and profession, it was likely he was a veteran like many of the workingmen in England are. He grabbed a whiskey glass and the ambrosia itself.

"It's usually surprising to people that I don't want wine or gin," I joked lightly, "My brothers taught me my love for whiskey."

His smile lifted more as he uncorked a bottle and poured my glass, "Younger or older?"

"Older," I answered as he placed it down in front of me with a coaster, "Said I couldn't play with the boys if I didn't drink with the boys."

"Aye, I have an older brother too. I know how they are," he sympathized. "You're the new woman in town, if I'm not mistaken."

With my drink in hand I gave him a conspiring look, "My name is Marie. I'm not surprised I stand out to the locals. How long have you worked at the Garrison?"

"Call me Harry. I've owned the bar even before the war. I fought in France," he replied.

"Ah, thank you for your service," I raised my glass to him, "My brothers served as well. Blessed be, you lived to see Birmingham after the war."

He quickly poured a small amount into a glass for himself, "Did your brothers get to see home?"

I smiled sadly, "I'd like to believe that they still can see home from where they are."

He raised his glass as well, "What were your brother's names?"

"Felix and Rhys," their names brought warmth to my heart even as my father's death made me cold, "I fear that there will never be another pair quite the same; they were as stupid as they were brave."

"Then to Felix and Rhys, and all the men who lived and died to see the end of the war," Harry hit the tip of his glass with mine and threw his drink back. I sipped long from my drink, my tastebuds long accustomed to the burn. Oak and burnt caramel coated my mouth. Thr glass hit its coaster again and I let out a sigh. I kept my gaze downcast until I saw more of the amber drink slosh into my glass.

"I'm a woman drinking on her own dime," I joked.

"Aye, and I am a man offering his condolences. Word has it that you're in mourning for your father," he said easily in a final tone. A man down the bar waved to the 'tender and so Harry gave me the parting words of, "Those two are on the house."

I shook my head and called after him, "Thank you, Harry."

Peering into the glass, in it's dark reflection I saw the watery look in my eyes. My drinking had always been in moderation in social settings during business and even then he'd always been watchful. Dad had poured a drink for his sons, my brothers, at their funeral in honor of their own love for whiskey. At my father's funeral I had stayed sober much to my own desire's protest. I couldn't drink for him, but I would drink to approaching justice. More whiskey slid down my throat; it was a familiar friend but that night it felt like I was committing betrayal. I wondered if he and my brothers watched over me, even then. Did I believe in an afterlife? The cold bodies of my family in caskets made me doubting my religion.

Heaving another deep sigh, I stood, turned my back on the bar and leaned on it as I surveyed the room. With a look at my watch I drew another sigh. I had woken so early that day, and though the clock had yet to strike six, I felt exhausted.

"I told Thomas to let you stay in tonight."

I jolted then, blasting myself for flinching another time that day. Bewildered, I saw a woman much older than I looking at me with incredibly steady brown eyes.

"I'm sorry?" I sputtered.

"You're the girl who caused the stir at the bakery today. I told Thomas to leave you be for the evening. Told him that he could expose you to his suspicion after a good night's rest."

"Word travels fast in Birmingham," I muttered.

"More so than where you're from?" she asked.

I shook my head and avoided the question, "That's a good point."

"'The girl' is such a title. My name's Marie," I introduced formally after a silence in which she continued to evaluate me, "Who are you?"

"Yes, _Just_ Marie as my nephews have told me," she sipped on a drink and I instinctively mimicked her actions, "Polly." She was one of them. Was she here on Thomas Shelby's request?

"Well, Polly," I started, "Thanks for trying reason with him. I know the stubborn types, though."

One side of her mouth quirked up, "Yes, so do I."

"Let's 'ave some fuckin' cake!" a man yelled with a knife clutched in his fist. He was wearing a cap like the ones that John and Thomas Shelby wore and his haircut was similar as well. People around the room hooted in agreement. From the sea of people, John emerged with Katie perched on one of his arms.

"Watch yer fuckin' mouth 'round my kids, Arthur!" John gave the man a good shove with his free arm and set Katie on top of a stool near the cake. She wore a sweet pink dress and a white bow in her hair. Her father took the knife from Arthur and helped Katie cut the first several pieces of cake. The room burst into more cheers. Beyond the shoulders of some men, I could see Thomas Shelby leaning against a wall, like a guardian of the Garrison. He, like some of the others, wore his hat indoors. Even in the shadow of his cap's rim, I could see his blue eyes peering back at me. It was a family celebration and he was on the dim edges of the pub, which I took note of.

"Aren't you going to get some cake?" Polly asked. She had been watching Thomas, as I had, and raised her eyebrow at me.

I shook my head, "I've been off my appetite."

I couldn't decide if Polly was there for his sake or if she had approached me on her own motive. Even with limited exposure, I realized the powerful family was an enigma. Breaking away from her gaze and looking out at the crowd, a sudden thought occurred to me, "Shouldn't there be more children at a children's party?"

From the corner of my eye, I saw another brunette approach us with purpose.

"By now you probably have some sense of the Shelby reputation," her eyes found the children, "Many parents keep their children away."

"Except for the drunk down the road," the woman's voice rang through the noise of the bar. She had high cheekbones and a pointed chin, which was resting gently atop the head of the small infant cradled in her arms, "He doesn't give a damn what his kids do so long as they are home when he wakes from his stupor. Speaking of, I don't see the twins tonight."

"Ada," Polly greeted, "I thought you were going to bring Karl home."

With care, Ada adjusted the hat on Karl. She snuck a meaningful glance at me, "I was on my way out when Arthur began yapping about the storm Tommy has been brewing over your friend."

"She's not my friend," Polly said easily, "Ada, this is Marie."

Polly's distance did not surprise me. I managed a weary grin, "Pleased to meet you."

"Please, you'd rather be anywhere but here," Ada retorted, "I don't blame you, either."

"Sounds like you empathize," I nodded to her and sipped from my glass.

"They're my brothers," she said flippantly, "Of course I empathize."

I scoffed, "Brothers. A right bunch of pains in our asses, no?" We shared a chuckle.

Her eyes traveled across my face and to my clothes before returning to my face again, "You aren't so bad, I don't know what Tommy is fussin' about." Karl gurgled impatiently, capturing all of our attention immediately.

"He's awfully cute," I said ducking my head down to grin at him.

Ada's face split into a large smile and she peered down adoringly at her son, "He looks a lot like his da."

"Speaking of which, where is the devil?" Polly asked.

"He and Tommy are catching up," she rolled her eyes, but not in poor sport, "If you're ever worried about your brother killing your lover, elope in secret, Marie. It has worked wonders for me." When I dared to look back to where Thomas had been, he was gone.

"I don't think I'll have to worry about that," I said, "But thank you for the tip."

The baby gave another squawk and Ada clicked her tongue affectionately.

"I've got to be off. Aunt Pol, try to see that Freddie is out of here before he lets my idiot brothers drink him under the table," they kissed cheeks and then she threw a few parting words to me, "Good luck."

I watched her retreating back, taking another note of the people who respectfully tipped their hats to her as she made her way out.

"Will I need the luck?" I wondered out loud.

"That depends on what your intentions are," Polly said.

There was a dark edge in her voice. Polly was a family woman, clearly. I finished my whiskey with a last swing. My limbs were numbing as the alcohol worked through my veins.

With my glass placed back into the bar for Harry, I reached into my small purse and pulled out a few extra coins for him. His generosity was welcome, but I also understood the challenges of running a business.

"Thanks for keeping me company," I offered to the astute woman still by my side, "The last few weeks have been incredibly long. This hasn't exactly been small talk, but it has been…" I trailed off uncertainly. What had it been? Nice wasn't the right word.

"Refreshing," I decided, "Have a good night."

She nodded and kept her eyes on me as I began threading through the crowd of the party. I made small talk with several people, most of their names escaping me through one ear right after it entered the other. That evening I found that there were men in Birmingham who thought I was worth spending some extra money for a drink. After the first two offers I politely turned down the advances.

Birmingham was a place of habit. There was a stark difference in the way that the locals interacted with each other in comparison to how they addressed me. The guests of the party called each other by their names and asked of their husbands, wives, children, sisters, brothers, and parents. Small business owners shared stories of pesky customers and clumsy employees. The contrast between the day and night in Birmingham was as strong as the summer juxtaposed to winter. Whereas work kept people busy in the day, the night welcomed the worn citizens of Birmingham to unwind. The booze surely helped, too.

They didn't get new available women around those parts often. The fraternization of men was not lost on me and while I did let them down softly with distancing steps, apologetic smiles, and maintained lighthearted conversations, I knew that anyone who thought they may be able to woo me would return home disappointed. I wasn't a stranger to sharing a heated night. There had been a time in my life that I found distraction from my hollow life in the beds of many men- and women. The death of my father marked the end of that stage in my life. Flesh lust had been pushed back into one of the closets in my brain.

The scorching desire for revenge lit my mind at every waking moment. My dreams reflected this. Men were distractions and I was determined to reach a goal. One day Birmingham would be far behind me.

Close to eight o' clock people began dancing and while I wouldn't take part with mind for the four whiskeys I consumed, I did clap along jovially to the music that a few fiddlers were playing for the crowd. Laughter hit the bar in waves, particularly when Katie dragged John Junior out to dance with her. With most of the eyes on them, I decided to take a break outside.

It was pleasant to find myself alone in my own company under the indigo nighttime sky that had fallen. Through the smoke of Birmingham I could see stars twinkling far, far beyond me. My back hit the exterior wall of the Garrison and I took out my watch again. Clicking the latch twice, I looked at the faces of my family with the help of the dim light coming from the windows of the bar. Anja's face disappeared below the pad of my thumb and I heaved a shaky sigh.

The sound of gravel crunching had me closing the watch and slipping it back into my purse promptly.

"I was wondering when you'd give me some of your time," I breathed into the night.

A wind howled through the street but he didn't utter a word.

"You sent a child to get me," I said.

"He's old enough to walk a stranger to his local pub," Thomas Shelby replied.

"Do you know how old he is?" I asked. He didn't reply. I kept my eyes glued to the sky, "He doesn't yet seem like a young man. He didn't even have the fire to tell a stranger that his life and his livelihood are none of her concern."

"He does it for his family."

"His mother doesn't know," my voice was defiant, "When you play with his life, you are playing with hers as well."

"You were right before," he replied, "His life is none of your concern."

"Ahh," I looked at him finally, concentrating on the orange ember at the end of his cigarette, "But it is yours."

His cap was gone and his eyes glowed. The hollows of his cheeks became more prominent as he took a deep drag. His eyes remained cool as ever, "Are you enjoying the party?"

I laughed sardonically, "I'd rather be enjoying a good night's sleep. But yes, the people here made sure to welcome me." A craving spiked in my chest, spurring an impulse. He was so still as I carefully reached out toward him. With his eyes on mine, I slipped the cigarette out of his hands and into my fingers. I drew from it for a few long moments and blew the smoke above the both of us.

"Why did you ask me here, Mr. Shelby?" He took out a cigarette case to get another for himself after my casual theft.

He lit the end in a fluid motion, "Why did you come to Birmingham?"

"More of this," I scoffed, "I'm not sure why that would possibly be any of your business- or my living arrangements for that matter. Mr. Daniels told me that the Shelby's would be coordinating lodging for me. If you haven't already set that up, I'll be heading back to their residence." My blood boiled as I finished the stoge, threw it to the ground, and stubbed it out with my toe. When I pushed off the wall and tried to walk off, his arm shot out like a bullet and snatched up my elbow.

"You haven't grasped how Small Heath works yet. Why," he spat with quiet venom, "Did you come to Birmingham?"

Bewildered at the audacity of his touch, I leaned closer to him and put my hand over his, digging my fingers into his flesh, "All you need to know is that I won't be here for long. Now get your _fucking_ hands off of me."

He let me go, and I took two stumbling steps away from him.

The whiskey had empty laughter bubbling from my mouth and tears prickling at my eyes, "With this welcome, it's a wonder why I'd want to leave Birmingham. But trust me, Thomas Shelby; as soon as I can, I'll be out of your hair."

He breathed loudly and ran his hands over his scalp. His cigarette hung from his mouth, trembling with each deep heave of his chest. He was watching me again. And I was watching him.

"We set up a room above the pub for you," Thomas said in a low voice. If he noticed my glassy eyes, he at the least had the common decency not to mention it.

"I don't have the money to be paying for board," I said, "Working for board was the most economic choice for me."

"You say you won't be staying for long," he replied.

"I'm staying until I'm done," I shot back. It was becoming clear as the conversation continued that I would need to switch tactics. If the way he grabbed me was any indicator, it was in my best interest to provide him with _something_. Just enough.

"And what are you going to do?" he asked.

"Anything that I have to," I clutched my watch in the coin purse, "I do it for my family. If you're wondering why I won't just _hand_ you more information, you should know that it could put them in danger."

Hearing his own words reflected back at him caught him off guard. The wild in his eyes subsided. As I waited for his reply I committed his expression to memory. His mouth pursed and his brows furrowed for a split second.

Then he nodded, and more smoke pooled from his mouth, "The board is free of charge."

I balked, "Nothing is free, Mr. Shelby."

"Your bags have already been moved into the room," he muttered, gesturing past him and toward the corner of the Garrison. Of course they had! They might as well have been waving their cocks around with a gun in their free hand.

My teeth grabbed onto the inside of my cheeks as I held on to the words that wanted to burst out of me. We didn't speak as he showed me around the building to one of two back doors. When he unlocked it with an old key, it opened to reveal a staircase with a hallway at the top. Looking at him with disdainful uncertainty, I only began the trek up the stairs after another cue from him. There wasn't any noise on the second floor of the pub, but I could hear the festivities of Katie's birthday below us.

When we both hit the second landing, his hand fell to the small of my back. He led me to one of the six doors in the hallway and used his free hand to open it for me.

A single candle was already burning and waiting for our arrival. The room was mostly bare, but it was equip with a four-post canopy bed adorned with blue curtains, a dresser, and an armoire with a mirror and chair. A modest table and a set of chairs were wedged between two doors, one was open revealing a private loo and the other was a small closet. On the white sheets of the bed sat my two bags. There was no kitchen unit. Fine lace window curtains were drawn back to reveal the street below where the Garrison entrance was.

"I hope it's to your liking."

Thomas Shelby only took a handful of paces into the room, leaving me wide berth. In the dim light of the room, the angles of his handsome face were more prominent than ever.

"To my liking?" I echoed, "This room is lovely. The Daniels also had a good room that I could have stayed in."

"Aye, but that opportunity is long past, isn't it?"

I shot him a look, "I suppose so, but only because of your paranoia." Pulling my pin from my hair and letting it fall down my back, I tossed it and my purse onto the bed and faced him with my hands on my hips.

"Thank you," I pulled several strands of hair away from my face, "This is an incredibly invasive sense of hospitality you have. I'm not entirely ungrateful."

He took another drag from his cigarette and pointed at me lackadaisically, "Is Marie your name?"

"You aren't a great conversationalist, are you?"

"Answer the question," he said pointedly.

"Mr. Shelby, from the moment we met this afternoon… you and I both knew that my name is not _Just Marie_ ," I tilted my head at him, "However, I won't give you my name."

"And why not?"

"It could jeopardize what I am here to accomplish," I stated. Thomas Shelby's eyes were burning into mine but he did not press me further.

"Even if you hadn't walked into the bakery, I would know of you. This town whispers of the Shelby's. The Peaky Blinders, they call you. To me it sounds like you know everyone in this town. That's information that I would find invaluable," I admitted.

"And now?" he closed much of the distance between us, "Is it still invaluable?"

"Absolutely," I shrugged, aware of his distracting proximity, "The person I'm looking for went missing years ago. Finding out what happened to her means more to me than my own life."

"But?" He offered me another cigarette. I took it and allowed him to light it for me.

I smirked, "But now I'm not so sure I like you. Frankly, you piss me off."

Despite himself, he made a sound that was between a scoff and a chuckle, and shook his head in disbelief, "Where in the hell did you come from."

"Don't say it like such a bad thing, Mr. Shelby," I said, "You might find that you miss it when I return to _where I came from_."

"I doubt it, Marie."

I huffed at him, dispelling a ton of smoke from my lungs in the process, "Oh yes, I can tell my visit to Birmingham is going to be just lovely." We shared several moments of silence.

"I should let you sleep," he stepped away and then out of the door.

Following him closely, I held out my hand expectantly, "Might I have the keys?"

Without a word, he reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and laid them into my palm. Our hands touched and I gulped. His hands were warm and calloused. His jaw flexed and he nodded again before disappearing down the hall and then the stairs. Doing my due diligence, I closed and locked the heavy wooden door. I was alone with my cigarette and the single candle that lit the room.

Ada had mentioned that John's kids were friends with a set of twins who had a drunkard father. How common were twins? Clearing my bed, I decided that I would start my search there.

-o-

 **Authors note** _ **.**_

I am incredibly humbled by the follows, favorites, and reviews that you all have given me. Thank you so much for your support. I hope that this chapter serves you all well. Also, I'd like to give a friendly reminder that **if one of my chapters reaches 10 reviews before I release the next chapter** , I will randomly select one reviewer to **receive an exclusive sneak peek of what is to come**. Guests to the site who leave reviews are also eligible for this opportunity if they leave a contact option at the bottom of their review.

Well Wishes Until Next Time, Rem

 **Review responses** _ **.**_

mickeymouseftw – I hope you're enjoying the unfolding story of our main character and that this update finds you well. Thank you for being my first reviewer, you'll always be dear to me now. ;)

ktlv – Much more is to come for Tommy and my OC. Please stick around to read all about their building relationship. Thanks for your review!

LadyRedStar – Thomas isn't just itching, he's burning. We'll see how long the little bit of information she's given him staves him off from pestering her again. Probably not long. Thanks for reviewing.

waterlily91 – I'll be posting updates every two weeks if all goes according to plan! May this "more" curb your hunger for now. Thanks for leaving me a review!

Chloe – Thanks for reviewing my first chapter. How is this second chapter serving you?

ValarMorghulisDohaeris – I'm incredibly flattered by your review. I hope to maintain the quality you've described! This chapter was admittedly much more challenging to write than the last. This WILL follow the show, but I've yet to decide how closely it will follow the show. I just finished watching season 3, so I've got a lot to stew on…

burgessinthestreets – Trust me… it's been 10 days since I posted the last chapter and I've been playing around with possibilities for these characters since- and long before. I'm glad that you are enjoying the background story that I'm working on! The first several chapters will take place between the first and second season so we'll be focusing a lot on the OC's story line. It's a story line that I am buzzing to write and get to you all. Thank you for your review!

Guest (1) – Thanks for reviewing my first chapter! If you look at the top of the story, you'll see a picture of the woman that I imagine my OC looking like.

Guest (2) – I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long. Thank you for your review.


	3. Chapter 3: Earnest, The Chameleon

_Ada had mentioned that John's kids were friends with a set of twins who had a drunkard father. How common were twins? Clearing my bed, I decided that I would start my search there._

-o-

When my brothers went to fight in the Great War, my father stayed behind. He was graying and was wearing his bifocals regularly. In the family business I had long moved past taking minutes at meetings and reciting analysis reports to my father. Most of my days were spent running budget numbers and sharing the responsibility of taking meetings with partners and employees. The market was tight and getting tighter as the number of railroad owners became fewer and fewer. The biggest names in the industry were weeding out the smaller companies faster than many of those companies could have anticipated. With this in mind, my father and I were constantly hard at work.

In the winter of 1916 my driver was delivering me home to Knightsbridge from Cambridge. He pulled the car right up to the walkway that ran through our yard and to the front steps of the house.

"Thank you for landing me home safely, Frank," I leaned over the front seat and gripped his shoulder in my gloved palm with a smile, "Tell Edith and the kids that we wish them a merry Christmas"

"Of course, Miss Bray. Fletcher isn't a kid anymore, though," he pat the top of my hand, "Let your father and siblings know that we wish the same for them."

A lump formed in my throat. I opened my door and stepped out of the vehicle before our doorman could beat me to it, "I'll give them word. Take care!" We exchanged waves as he pulled the car into the family garage. Fresh snow was falling, landing on my black wool coat.

"Miss Bray, come out of the cold," Earnest the doorman scurried up to me with wide eyes, still pulling on his scarf. When he stopped beside me, ha bowed his head momentarily.

"Hello to you, too!" I lifted my bag out of his reach when he went for it, "I've got it, thank you." With a tight smile, I began toward the door.

Not sure what to do with his hands, he tapped them together and followed me closely, "How was your meeting?"

"It went well," I allowed him to dash in front of me and get the door, "The Archibald brothers agreed to sell their railroads to us in exchange for a small percentage annually."

"Oh, good!" he exclaimed, "I'm sure Mister Bray will be thrilled to hear it."

"We'll see. Has anything come in the mail for me today?" Discarding my gloves, scarf, hat and jacket onto a maple table in our foyer, I picked the newly signed contract out of my bag and admired it. The room smelled of fresh pine from the Christmas tree set up on the granite floor.

"Oh, eh…" Earnest folded up my outside wear, set it down, and pressed his knuckles to his mouth, "Your brothers haven't returned your last letter."

I nodded, "And Anja?" Red glass ornaments on the tree's branches bounced the light of the hall on to the ceiling.

"Ah," he cleared his throat, "Miss Anja has yet to send word."

"Right," my voice was hoarse, "Thank you, Earnest. I can take it from here."

-o-

On my first full day of work, I arrived two hours before opening time to help with the early morning baking. When Mr. Daniels asked me how much I knew about baking, I admitted shamelessly that I only had prowess over decorating. I offered my full dedication as a student if he'd be willing to teach, but also pressed the subject of publicly decorating cakes.

He had his reservations. He did not acknowledging the request, but he did begin to recite recipes and bark measurement instructions to me. After two hours of following his instructions and nursing two minor burns on my hands, I made the ask again. He looked pointedly at my threaded hands hanging in front of me. He puckered his lips up, lifting his mustache. Then he gave his permission with the condition that I help open the storefront first so Alice could work the counter. Not too long after that, he disappeared into the back of the bakery.

Six dozen customers visited the bakery during the two hours I decorated that morning. At the end of my first full day as his employee, Mr. Daniels informed me that I would decorate one of the display cakes every day.

Instead of leaving the conversation then, which I realized was characteristic for the man, he hung back to ask me how I managed to attend a Shelby party and make it to work at 6am.

With a secretive smile, I responded that laborers don't get to sleep when there is work to be done. What I didn't tell him is that sleep escaped me with a unwavering persistence I was remarkably familiar with. Even with the exhaustion of a day full of events and the weight of emotional turmoil, I could only master six hours of sleep on a good night.

-o-

"Marie, bring the new flour bags in from the backcourt and add them to the inventory," Robert yelled into the front floor of the bakery. It was Friday, which marked five days and four nights in Birmingham.

"Sure thing, Mr. Daniels," I replied, finishing counting today's earnings and checking it thrice, "Just let me note some things for the books."

The navy blue cash register had been full of another day's net. People of Birmingham were making time in their schedules to be spectators of my morning shows. Almost all of the people who came to see the decorating would also spend some money on baked goods, and people who had in the past gone to other bakeries found themselves switching to the Daniels' bakery for the extra perk of a performance.

"What are ye writing', lass?" Mr. Daniels asked, looking over my shoulder.

Taking careful notes on a chart, I nodded my chin toward the register, "I'm organizing the bakery's financial records. I'm comparing the gross profits, or what you gain in total, against your net profits, which are your gross profits minus all of your costs of production including ingredients, electricity, labour, living costs, maintenance, and the likes. We can use this information to build a budget."

"Sounds like you've got plans for this 'budget'," Mr. Daniels plucked the pile of papers from the table after I finished writing. I put my pencil back into its cup for safekeeping.

"Yes, actually," I stood from my stool at the cash register so I could see what he was looking at, "With a comprehensive financial archive, we can project future costs which will let you decide how to finance your business. If you continue on this track- by which I mean making plenty of gross income- you can even start saving three percent of your monthly income for the future without disturbing your lifestyle. Though the popularity of the morning performances may drop some once people get used to it, the shows should continue to bring in more customers than before."

He listened silently then asked, "And what was wrong with our old system?"

"Nothing was 'wrong' per se. I used your records to build a lot of the budget draft," I pulled papers from one of the drawers under the register, "I'll put them back when I'm done."

He palmed his mustache and jaw, using his opposite hand to make a series of small circles, urging me on.

"My budget calls for a categorizing component. The budget can tell you how much you spend quarterly and annually, for instance, on the flour we got dropped off today. If a new provider was promising they could offer you their service for cheaper by billing you annually instead of on every order, you can look into the records and check that. It's a good tool for cutting costs," I explained, pointing to the line on the paper he was holding that cited how much the bakery spent on flour that week, "Your methods aren't broken, this just organizes the information differently."

Robert grumbled something incoherent and handed the papers back, "Make sure the flour gets into the inventory." He began toward the front door to lock up for the afternoon. The lock clicked and he began rummaging around in his pockets.

"Sure thing, Mr. Daniels," I drew out my words, smiling with a closed smile to myself, "Right after I file these."

"I think the new system is a great idea," Alice piped up as she emerged from the back room and wiped sweat from her brow. She winked at me, "What a smart way to do it."

"Aye," Mr. Daniels agreed with his wife before pulling out an envelope from his pocket, "We know you didn't come with much. Spend the weekend settlin' in."

Confused at the sudden non sequitur, I tilted my head and accepted the envelope he offered to me. Once I had see what was inside, my eyes went wide, "This seems like too much. And I shouldn't take the weekend off, it's going to be as busy as a hive." The money was heavy in my hands.

"Nonsense," Alice clutched a fine straw woven hat to her chest, "You've earned it."

I began shaking my head but Robert interrupted me before I could start, "You're right, there is extra in there. You brought in a lot of business. Yer normal weekly wage will be less. This is our thanks. The place you're stayin' doesn't 'ave a stove."

Mr. Daniels offered his wife his arm, which she easily took. He turned his head slightly and didn't look right at me.

"What Rob is trying to say is that you've had all of your meals here since you've started working, and that's no way for a young woman to live," Alice substituted when she saw my frown.

I had assumed that they wouldn't notice me sneaking hearty bread and meat pies from the pile of baked goods that didn't look aesthetically pleasing enough to make it into the glass display case for sales.

It was a challenge to not have a stove, but it was not an impossible problem. For one, my appetite was all but absent since my father's passing. Second, had it not been a remedy to eat from the discarded goods? Finally, had I had the desire to fix my dilemma, I could have found things in the market that did not require a source of heat.

"Thank you for thinking of me," I wrapped the envelope into my fist, crumpling it, "You both continue to be very kind. I'm incredibly grateful."

"You've earned it," Alice repeats, "If you don't mind me sayin' your pa would be proud."

No, he would have been pulling his hair out if he knew what I was doing in Birmingham. Drawing a quiet breath, I smiled politely.

"Thank you, Alice."

Robert led Alice to the back room and I followed them to the back door.

"Close up when you leave. Travel safely," he instructed.

"Have a good evening, dear," Alice said with one foot out the door, "We're locking you in."

"Thank you, but don't bother. I have to bring the flour in," I lifted a ring of keys out of my skirt pocket. He nodded and they were gone. They were going out for dinner, Alice had told me. Though neither said it, I suspected it was in celebration.

Silence filled the room. I let it cozy up to me, to press up against me, to begin to creep through my parted lips and into my lungs. It crawled into my ears, and the ringing began. Familiar emptiness carved itself into every pore of my skin. The deafening quiet in my lungs became incredibly heavy for several long beats. If I was still enough, would I collapse into myself and disappear? I could only hope.

From the darkness in my heart, a familiar heat clawed its way out with sharp nails. It was time to get to work. A weekend off was perfect.

Stuffing the money into my pocket along with my keys, I quickly went back to the register for the forms I had been working on. Once they were filed away, I rolled up my sleeves and began lugging the flour bags in the courtyard into the inventory room one by one. Sweat prickled my brow but I knew the weight of flour would affect me less the more lifting I did.

With the back locked up, the inventory room stocked, and the front counters wiped spotless, I pulled my apron off and hung it with the Daniels' and exited out of the front door as I do every day. When I went to lock the door, I looked expectantly into the reflection on the door's window glass.

Like every other day of that week, there was a silhouette of a man in the window of the cigar shop across the street from the bakery.

Thomas Shelby had assigned a shadow to me.

The shadow was there when I woke up at five in the morning. The shadow would follow me on my walk in the mornings, careful to stay far enough behind me while I stopped at a nearby canal on my way to work. He would disappear into the building across the street while I fulfilled my shifts and would leave moments after I left work. On my walk home he kept even more distance as I neared the same quiet canal to sit by the water. At the end of the journey, when I turned the corner of the Garrison to the stairs leading to the apartment, I assumed he would hit the bar.

He knew my schedule.

That day when I arrived at the canal and took my normal seat on some of the masonry that decorated the path, a thrill shot through my body. There were a few men sorting goods for the boats that would travel the canal, but they didn't bother me at all. I grabbed my watch from my pocket, along with a small, hidden slip of paper. With one hand, I clicked the watch latch and checked the time. With the other I discreetly dropped the paper along the side of the rock slab near my calves before putting the hand on the base of the back of my neck.

After a few more minutes I got up and began the second leg of my journey home. I looked back at the canal to survey the place I had been sitting. My shadow was faithfully present, walking with his hands in his pockets and his eyes covered by one of the hats that the Peaky Blinder men wore.

I also saw a familiar form scurry to the masonry and sit down to tie his shoe.

-o-

Instead of going straight up to my apartment, I stopped into the bar. Harry greeted me warmly and asked if there was anything he could get for me. This time he was not surprised when I ordered my whiskey. When he found a break from the other pub goers, he stopped by me and asked me how I was finding Birmingham.

I told him about the highs- selling two cakes in a day- and the lows- burning an entire oven load of bread- of the week at work.

It was convenient. The Shelby's obviously had a lot of control over the bar. Anything that I told Harry would get back to the annoying, leggy Thomas Shelby himself. I also found that Harry was a very pleasant, genuine guy.

Through our chatter I was aware that the Shelby's must have been in the private side room by the bar. When one man would leave the room, another would take his place like clockwork, probably carrying messages and updates on the town. There must be a solid foundation of good intelligence to maintain reign.

"What about this weekend?" Harry asked, stifling a laugh he had at my expense as I recounted the wicked amount of work Mr. Daniels gave me after I accidentally switched the salt measurements for the sugar measurements on a batch of cookies.

I took a long sip from my whiskey, licked my lips and said, "Working, of course."

With a shake of his head he gave me a sympathetic look, "The Daniels' are working you hard, then."

"No harder than they should be, it's nice to be busy," I replied honestly. The sound of the side room door opening hit my ears and the volume in the pub fell but did not go silent. I knocked the rest of the whiskey down and quickly put my dues on the counter for the kind barkeep, "I should get out of here, I've got another early morning."

He nodded to me and I spun out of my stool almost knocking right into two of the Shelby brothers. Stopping short, I feigned surprise.

"Ah, this is Just Marie!" the man I recognized as the oldest Shelby used both of his hands to gesture up and down my form, "Tommy, ye someho' fergot to mention 'ow beautiful she is."

"It didn't seem relevant at the time, Arthur," Thomas said. He looked at the ceiling briefly, appearing to be exacerbated for the first time since I met him. I eyed him before pinning Arthur with a look.

"Yes, I'm sure you two were busy talking about my merit as a business woman," I said.

"I fink you just wanted to keep 'er all to yer self," Arthur took off his cap, licked his hand and slicked back the hair on top of his head, "Who can blame him. My name is Arthur Shelby."

He held his hand- the same one he had just drunkenly licked- out to me, palm up. I gave him access to my hand and when he moved to lift it to his lips, I flipped his hand firmly and gave it a shake. His hand went limp in mine and I dropped it.

"It's good to meet you Arthur. I was just on my way out," I gave him a tight smile. His face twisted up as his looked between his hand and my face several times.

"It's good to see you again, Thomas," I offered my hand to him, too.

The corners of his mouth twitched and I could see in his eyes that he was going to humor me before he even moved. When he gave me his hand, our palms were flush. We shook and I kept his gaze. His hand dwarfed mine.

"If you weren't leaving, it would be even better," Arthur had recovered and was peering around to take a gander at my curves, "How 'bout it, Just Marie? Why don't you stay 'ere with me?"

I clenched my jaw, and whipped my head around to look at Arthur again. One eyebrow shot up before I could control it and I took my hand from Thomas, "Maybe another time. I've got an early morning tomorrow."

"Leave the woman alone, for Christ's sake," Thomas scolded his brother. His voice made Arthur straighten out and pull on the suspenders over his button up shirt.

"We'll let you get on your way, Marie," Thomas said.

"Well, then. It seems as though I have been dismissed," I murmured teasingly, adding a small bow for good measure, "Have a nice night, boys!"

Though there must have been a way to access the second floor from the first, Harry was clearly not available to show me so I began to make my way out of the pub.

The sound of Arthur's harsh voice followed me out, "What the hell was that?! I was gettin' somewhere!"

Whatever Thomas said back to Arthur did not go over well, because he stormed back into the private side room just as I crossed the doorway out. Alcohol was pulling a lot of wool over his eyes if Arthur Shelby really thought he was 'getting somewhere' with me.

-o-

When I reached the apartment, I gave the floors a good sweep. A Saturday off of work would not only give me time to make contact with home, but it would also serve as a rebellion against Thomas for having my bags searched when they moved my stuff into the apartment and giving me an unwelcome shadow.

Thinking back to the first night, everything had been meticulously repacked when I examined the bags. Unfortunately for them I habitually zipped my bag in the middle. The person who did the probe had zippered both heads to one side.

What kind of paranoid gangster has a woman's bags searched?

I supposed the same kind of ganger who keeps his drunkard older brother from sexually harassing a woman.

Which raised the question: What kind of man _was_ Thomas Shelby?

If he wanted to check my bags, I assumed he also would stoop so low as to have my room searched under the right circumstance.

On the one hand, I begrudgingly understood his paranoia. I arrived out of nowhere and he believed I was targeting his niece. An act against one is an act against them all. Being related to the Peaky Blinders puts the children at higher risk. I understood that. I would even say I deeply empathized.

After splashing some cool water on my face, I took my hair out of its signature bun and began walking around the apartment, shifting my weight from side to side.

' _If there's a search, they'll check the mattress, the closet, the bathroom and of course any drawers._ '

In the furthest corner of the room, the floor let out a loud creak.

Dropping to my knees, I tested the floor planks one after the other until I found the loose boards. Two planks buckled readily. I slipped the end of my hairpin between them and popped one up.

Having the apartment searched would easily be solved with a floor space and a decent rug.

-o-

"Why am I hearin' the patter of yer feet on yer day off?" Mr. Daniels boomed over the loud roar of the mixers on Saturday morning.

"Don't lose your mustache, Mr. Daniels. I'm starting early on my errands, and I was wondering if there's any bread left over from yesterday?"

He fixed me with an unamused stare, which got sharper as I moved a prepped rack of bread pans into the oven and set the timer. Kicking the kitchen door closed, I went to sort through the second-day bread. I found one of the multigrain loaves, ripped off a chunk, and popped it into my mouth.

He stalked over a swiped the loaf from my hands.

"At least slice it, fer Christ's sake," he grouched, stuffing it into the slicer and then putting it into a paper bag.

Alice appeared in the inventory room doorway, "Marie, what do you think you're doing here?"

"She came 'ere to eat," the baker said, pushing the loaf into my arms.

"Oh, good!" she motioned to pass me several tiny vases with water and flowers in them, "While you're here, will you help me set these out?"

Opening the bag and stuffing a slice of bread into my mouth, I accepted the vases and shot Mr. Daniels a smug look.

"Alice," he grunted.

"Hush. Just this one thing and we'll send her off," Alice waved.

I followed Alice out onto the front floor and began dispersing the vases amongst the table and counter.

"What are you getting into today?" Alice asked conversationally.

"Some basics. I'm going to get a table-top burner. There's a consignment shop nearby, I'm going to get some pans, pots, wooden spoons, and utensils."

"Don't forget a cutting board and a decent knife."

"Yes, that too. Then I want to find a rug and go buy some groceries."

"We have a carpet you can use," Alice smiled as we finished.

I put my hands up in front of me, "I don't think I could possibly take a carpet from you."

"Consider it a loan. Why don't you come by tomorrow after the bakery closes to pick it up?" she insisted.

"You both were serious about taking off two days," I sighed.

We walked back into the kitchen and Alice wagged a finger at me, "We absolutely were. Don't come back to work until Monday morning."

Mr. Daniels rumbled in agreement.

"As you wish!" I took my bread bag and went to the back exit.

"And come get the carpet tomorrow!" Alice added as I headed out the door.

"What about a carpet?" Mr. Daniels asked his wife, but I was gone before Alice replied.

My watch read 6:10. I quietly cut through the back alley and a small yard, before slipping onto a parallel street. It was a chilled summer morning. I took my hair down, letting it curtain around my face as I clutched a light white shawl around my shoulders.

My shadow had seen me travel to work. He'd even seen me do some work in the bakery.

It wasn't long until I found myself on the road that led me to the canal. My pace was brisk until I was coming up on my last turn. When my normal spot came into sight, I was relieved to see Earnest sitting on one side of the masonry. He wore non-descript brown clothing and was reading a newspaper. I sat down on the opposite end of the stone.

He cast me a side glance, nodding in approval at my black mourning skirt and my off-white work blouse. He kept the paper in front of him, scanning the pages but not taking in the text.

"You're late," he said unsurely.

I hummed, "I got here as soon as I could."

"I began to worry," he said, "You're rarely late."

"There have been some complications," I replied.

"Were you followed here?" he asked.

"I wouldn't be here if I had been," I assured.

"It's a relief to speak to you," he muttered, anxiety streaking his voice, "Why are you being followed?" His words weren't accusatory, just concerned.

"Tell me; did the Shelby's come up in your research of Birmingham?" I asked.

He gulped, "Well, yes-"

"Earnest," I cut him off calmly.

"Yes, miss?"

"Next time I ask for you to gather intel on a town and you discover there is an organized gang, you will to tell me," I said.

"Yes, miss."

"I'm not mad. We have to do better in the future."

"Yes, miss."

"Earnest, I'm glad to see you," I said softly.

"How are you fairing?" he asked.

I heaved a deep sigh, "I've started working at a bakery that she wrote about often. I'm well."

I knew Earnest didn't believe it, but he nodded.

"I don't know how much time we have," I kicked my boots out in front of me and balanced my weight on my palms, "The leader of the Peaky Blinders, Thomas Shelby, has taken an interest in me. He's deciding if I'm a threat. Or just trying to prove that he can figure out why I'm in Birmingham. Either way, I don't foresee him letting up anytime soon. It's of the utmost importance that you and Frank work with discretion. I don't want the Shelby's to interfere as of now."

"As of now?" he echoed.

"There may be value in his… power over the town. He also has people littering Birmingham as his informants. Right now I'm just keeping that option in my pocket," I tried to ease the clear distress in his voice.

"I'd like you to do some research on their family and let me know if there is anything I need to know," I paused, "I won't need a physical file. It's too dangerous, especially if anyone were to ever find out that I had the file."

"Yes, miss. What sort of things am I looking for?" Earnest asked.

Earnest is, in simple terms, a chameleon. His face is symmetrical. He is on the slightly shorter, stockier side. His eyes and hair are brown. He can disappear in a crowd because he had no striking features. He had a face that you might trust, with wide readable eyes and straight teeth.

Remembering the bread, I took out a slice before offering him the bag. Though we still did not look at each other, he folded the newspaper and eagerly helped himself.

"I want to know who they've killed and why. I want to know what people would want to hurt the Shelby's. They're all young enough to have gone to war. See if there is anything there."

"Yes, miss. Have you heard anything of your sister?"

"Not yet," I shot back quickly, "But I have a lead I'm going to follow. There was talk of a drunk with twins."

He didn't respond at first but then cleared his throat, "There's something you should know, miss."

"Time is of the essence, Earnest," impatience crept into my voice.

"There have been several offers to buy the railroads while you've been away," he cringed.

"Those vultures," I spat, "They couldn't even wait a month to start picking at father's remains."

He allowed a moment a silence and then asked carefully, "What would you like Frank and I to do?"

"Tell them that I'm taking up to three months to grieve and until then, our operations will run as usual. Inform me immediately if there are any signs of foul play on the ground or in management. I will rain hellfire down on any one of those suited fucks if they think for one moment that a Bray will be bested by dirty tricks," I hissed, struggling to keep my voice down, "I'll consider my options while I'm away, I'll consult you and Frank on my intentions at a later date. I will review all requests when I return to the estate."

He nodded quickly, "Yes, very good, miss. But…"

"Yes?"

"It's just… Investors and board members are getting restless."

"Tell investors that I'm not going to try to keep them in one place but that it's in their best interest to sit still until the status of the company is determined. The board members are mostly spineless. They won't make any moves until the grieving period is over."

"Very good," he procured a folded piece of paper from his breast pocket, "Frank asked me to send this message along." He slid it across the stone.

It read, " _A rock can strike the Black Haron._ "

I folded it up and slid it back to Earnest, "Tell Frank to hold off but to keep eyes on BH. Please also tell him to deliver the bag I packed to me at 2am Monday morning. I'm not sure where our next meeting place will be. I'll give the location to Frank when I see him. In the meantime, you should get going."

"Very well," Earnest returned the paper to his inner pocket and stood up.

"Thank you for your hard work, Earnest," I finally made eye contact with him and found him returning my look warmth in his gaze.

"We will always be here."

A boat glided down the canal. A young man on it saw me and waved in greeting, which I returned. The only sound I heard as Earnest left was the swishing of his clothes. Once again, he slipped away to do his job.

Instead of getting to my errands, I relished in being without the shadow. There was only so long that the shadow could go without seeing me before he got suspicious. Soon he'd be back on me. Instead of worrying about it, I continued to enjoy the bread. Several more small boats traveled the canal while I sat, feeling the breeze on my face.

"It's a beautiful morning to be out."

I genuinely spooked and nearly dropped what I was eating. Swinging around, I was surprised to see Thomas Shelby himself several paces behind me. He was missing his cap and the hair he did have was tussled. His breath was fast. He wore a pair of nice slacks, black leather shoes and white button up shirt.

I gathered my wits, cleared my face and nodded, "It is."

He pinned me down with a determined look in his cerulean eyes as he took a seat on the stone. Unlike my previous meeting, he sat close to me. My heart jumped to my throat as I began to weigh the chances that he saw Earnest.

He gestured to the canal, "I hear you come here often."

"Yes," I scoffed, offering him a piece of bread from the bag, "The person you've instructed to follow me has seen me here twice a day since I've arrived."

He declined the bread with a raised hand, "How long have you known?"

"You had my bags searched, and I knew there'd be more. Tuesday evening he got too close and froze when I took a look at him. It was a dead give away," I explained, taking the final bite of the slice.

"You lost him pretty easily," he commented.

"I told Harry I'd be working today, which got back to you. The Daniels were cross that I even showed my face at work but they fed me and sent me off. My shadow covers the store front," I shrugged, "I exited from the back."

He shook his head and laughed, still looking out at the canal.

"You are one of the most infuriating people I have ever met," he uttered.

"I can be much more pleasant," my tone was casual, "Especially if you stop having me watched. And if you let the kids come back to the bakery."

"I never told them they couldn't go to the bakery," Thomas countered.

"No, but you had John do it. Am I right?"

"Perhaps John's wife," he replied.

I nodded.

"You said you were looking for someone. A woman. Who is she?" he asked.

"I should also mention that I can be much more transparent when I'm not watched," I responded.

"What's the harm in telling me?"

"What's the harm in leaving me be?"

He tilted his head back and as he looked down his nose at me, I admired his jaw.

"I can do that."

"Leave me be?" I laughed, "Call me a skeptic, but I'm not sure if I believe that."

His eyes widened as I laughed and his body language changed completely. He planted his feet firmly on the ground and rested his forearms on his knees. He allowed his head to hang temporarily. His hands were clasped, tensing as he clenched them intermittently. He turned his head toward me with a hard look.

"I don't know if I do either."

Confusion flooded me. Then unease settled in the pit of my stomach when I recognized something in him that I often saw in myself.

Pain.

"Who are you meeting here?" he asked. As quickly as I had seen it, he had masked it again.

"What are you talking about?" I asked easily.

"This is a rendezvous point you set up," he replied. He hadn't seen Earnest. Good. I gave him credit for the deduction.

"Fine," I conceded, "It is. We won't be meeting here anymore. We're too worried a local gang will invite themselves to the meeting."

"Perhaps they suspect you are a government spy," his voice was crystal clear.

"That's an interesting theory but I think that it would only be the leader of the gang that thinks that."

Again he looked at me, determining whether or not I was lying.

"Thomas Shelby, I'm not a government spy," I threw one hand into the air, "I didn't even know you were going to be here. My informant didn't think it was important to know anything about the Peaky Blinders before I arrived in Birmingham. He clearly underestimated your interest in incoming residents."

"Sounds like he didn't do a very good job, then," Thomas noted.

"He's usually one of the best," I defended instantly, "My father's death has had its toll on us."

The man had the nerve to look at me in disbelief.

"Yes. My father is truly dead," I barked at his silent question, "What in the hell made you so paranoid?" The Shelby didn't look insulted.

"Why are you so secretive?"

We settled into silence.

"If your gut is telling you I'm bad news, why haven't you just run me out of town?" I asked.

"Sounds like you're starting to understand the Peaky Blinders," he began. Was that a joke? It was too dry to tell, "My instinct is giving me mixed signals."

I nodded, once again feeling empathy for Thomas Shelby.

"I want to keep my privacy surrounding my investigation," I began, "Though I'm willing to compromise to get it."

He waited in silence.

I took a few steadying breaths.

"My older sister went missing four years ago. I have reason to believe she was taking residence here at one point. That's all I can tell you. Her name, her predicament- I can't share these details until I've learned more for myself," I clenched my hand into a fist, "There may be a time where I seek you out for your access to information."

I ground my teeth together and pressed my knuckles into the stone beneath me, "I'm sure by this time you can deduce that I would do _anything_ to find my sister. At this point, I'm not ready to pay a price like that. Debt is not something I wear well."

Thomas Shelby stood up gracefully, looking out at the canal closely again, "You did mention it was a family matter."

"Would you ever let something happen to Ada?" I asked.

He turned and glared, "Never."

"No, of course not," I said quietly. I leaned over my lap and set my elbows on my knees. The tips of my fingers on both hands lined up in a point and I pressed my forefingers into my bottom lip, "I've already let something happen to my sister. I need to know what happened."

Thomas reached into his pockets and procured his cigarette case. He took one for himself and offered me one as well. I took it graciously and let him light the end for me like he did in my room the night I arrived.

"What are you doing with your day off?" he asked. Thankful for it, I didn't disturb the change in topic.

"The apartment doesn't have a kitchen accommodation. I'm furnishing a makeshift one today," I responded.

He shook his head and took a deep drag, blowing the smoke out of his nose, "You don't have a kitchen area."

It may have been a question, but it didn't sound like one, "Correct."

He offered me his arm with a blank face, "Can I walk you in town, Miss Marie?"

I lifted one brow, "Why?"

"As your landlord," he drawled, "I feel it's my obligation to see to it that you don't starve."

With caution I threaded my arm through his. We must have been a sight. Each of us had a cigarette in our spare hand while we traveled in silence. I wondered if it meant that Thomas Shelby would stop meddling with my mission. I should have known better.

-o-

 **Author's Note**.

Here's a reminder that if one of my chapters reaches **ten reviews** before the next one is posted, I will randomly choose one reviewer to receive **an exclusive sneak peek** of the upcoming chapter.

Until next time.

-Rem

 **Review Responses**.

 _Kekeon_ – Thank you for reviewing my second chapter! I hope you've enjoyed this installment, especially the pieces that are coming together about "Just Marie" and her past. Let me know what you thought about this chapter. I have a tendency to edit work even after I post it, so the feedback is invaluable.

 _AD98_ – Thanks fam! I thought of you when I was writing this chapter, and I hope you dug on the small amount of bonding that "Marie" and Tommy shared. I admittedly did reveal her motive this chapter, I hope it wasn't too soon. Luckily I have big plans for what happened next…

 _Nim-Silma_ – I'm happy to hear that you love what I have going so far! Let me know what you think of the story as it progressed, I'd love to know. Thanks for the review.


	4. Chapter 4: Frank, the Owl

_With caution I threaded my arm through his. We must have been a sight. Each of us had a cigarette in our spare hand while we traveled in silence. I wondered if it meant that Thomas Shelby would stop meddling with my mission. I should have known better._

-o-

 _Sonja,_

 _I desperately need to speak with you. Is there any way that you can meet me at the Mayfair train station at one in the afternoon on the second Friday in January? Come alone._

 _Sending my love,_

 _Anja_

-o-

The appliance store owner had just begun to open shop when Thomas Shelby knocked on the door. The deep frown on his face dropped when he saw a Peaky Blinder cap and his back straightened with a snap when he recognized who exactly was walking through the door.

"Good morn, Mister Shelby, sir," the young man tucked his pad of paper and pencil into the front pocket of his button-up, "You sure do rise early."

"Ah, I have a full day ahead, Mister Taylor," the Shelby replied.

The man gave Thomas a cautious appraisal before sparing a brief moment to glance at me. I offered him a soft, closed mouth smile with my arms folded behind me. Quickly, he fixed his attention back on Thomas.

His aloof regard for the man left the store keeper unsure of what to say next. With the blue eyed gangster sucking up all the air in the room, I took the opportunity to evaluate the wares. Thomas let Mister Taylor squirm under his gaze. With a _smack_ , I let my hand fall onto a nearby display table and hummed. With a brief pointing finger, I regarded a familiar red device.

Both men were eyeing me when I stepped forward and laced my hands behind me, "What a wonderful shop. It's not often you see goods imported from Spain. The craftspeople there certainly do have a wonderful taste for design, don't they?"

The keeper looked at me with a slack mouth for a moment before he scratched the back of his head, "Aye, they do. My brother is a trader there. He recommended the Spanish coffee grinders."

With a nod, I put a hand on the wheel protruding from the side of the appliance, "He has a good eye."

"I certainly agree, ma'am," he said politely.

Meeting Thomas' eyes briefly, I quickly read his intrigue. Before I could let his calculating stare throw my game, I followed up quickly with the shopkeeper, "We'd like to take a look at table top stoves. I understand you're still preparing for the day." My voice dropped and I tilted my head.

"I was nearly done," he turned briskly, "If you two would just follow me righ' this way…"

Staying in my place, I left it to Thomas to follow Mister Taylor's lead. Instead he raised an eyebrow at me and gestured with one hand for me to go, "After you, Marie."

Quickly, I accepted the offer. When Mister Taylor came to a stop in front of many stoves I could feel the shift in the atmosphere as Thomas asserted himself into the conversation. Though we stopped in a line, I stepped back so the two others could speak. It wasn't long before Thomas began quizzing Mister Taylor on the options. I allowed myself to become small and unimportant to the conversation, taking another opportunity to study the Shelby's face.

There were yellow undertones in his skin, highlighted by the morning sun spilling through the front windows of the storefront. His matching cyan irises were illuminated and chilling, framed astutely by dark lashes. I compared the angles of his eyebrows to those of his cheekbones. Thomas Shelby was, without a doubt, fearsome.

"What do you think, Marie?" Thomas speared me with his eyes then, shaking me from my musings.

Not one to ever be caught in the unknown, I quickly recalled the body language of the two men and the movement of Thomas' mouth. Despite my preoccupation, I had instinctively read just enough to piece most of it together.

With a flick of a wrist I pointed a forefinger toward the stove burner furthest to the right, "I would take Mister Taylor's word for it."

The shopkeeper beamed, unaware of the fact that I hadn't heard a word he said. Instead I saw the persuasive gestures that he made while speaking and Thomas Shelby's ever-so slight indication of interest: his full body turned toward the far right.

"That one it is, then," Thomas said, his eyes lingering on my face a moment too long.

If Thomas wanted to play the role of the thorough landlord, I wouldn't stop him. I busied myself at the back of the shop, browsing washer boards. I plucked the lightest weight washboard and returned to the register just as they were settling payment.

"When would you like to have your package delivered, ma'am?" the shopkeep was jotting down several things on his pad of paper.

"At the earliest convenience," Thomas answered for me.

With a quiet scoff, I placed the washboard on the counter, "I won't be home until at least 2 this afternoon. Is there anyway that we can schedule the drop off for then?"

"Nonsense," Thomas said in a calm, firm voice before Mister Taylor could reply, "Have it dropped at the Garrison in the hour."

Though I was sure that Harry had better things to do than wait for packages, I made a resolve not to argue. I choose my battles carefully.

"Very well. In that case, will you also deliver this washboard? I'd also like to purchase a medium basin."

Mister Taylor nervously looked up from his notes, "Righ', then. Would that be together or separate?"

"Separate," I said shortly.

"Yes, yes," he calculated the price and flashed it my way.

"Since the two work as a pair, how would you feel about knocking a percentage off?"

He looked surprised, "Er, yes. Well, what do you have in mind, ma'am?"

"Twenty," I put both of my hands on the counter in line with my squared shoulders.

"I can do ten."

"Perhaps we can settle on fifteen?" To the shopkeeper's credit, he only broke my gaze to look at the washboard for a moment.

"I'll give you fifteen," he relented.

"Wonderful," taking another good look at the number he had shown me previously, I quickly calculated 85% and counted the money from my pocket, "It's been nice to meet you, Mister Taylor." I flashed another closed mouth smile and slide the tender over the counter to him.

"The same to you, miss…"

I feigned innocence, letting his implied question hang as I took the receipt he offered and stepped back with a parting nod. Thomas was not far behind me. When I reached the exit, his arm reached above me to hold open the door for me. I uttered a thanks and we began walking down the road side by side again.

He didn't miss the unbelieving look I gave him, answering it with a curt, "Yes?"

I shook my head, "I'm surprised you even bothered to knock on his door."

"Ah, and I'm _not_ surprised at how you curated that transaction," he replied.

"I directed it," I shrugged, "After barging into his shop, I figured the least we could do was acknowledge the pride he has in his work."

"Aye, and I suppose you were doing just that when you carved yourself a deal?" One side of his mouth lifted.

I shrugged, "Perhaps they were unrelated."

"Perhaps," he echoed.

-o-

Many hours later, I briskly hopped up the backstairs of the Garrison. With a turn of the key, the door opened and the first thing I saw was the table top burner already set up. Setting three bags down next to it, I heaved a sigh of relief. Sweat prickled at my temples and I fanned myself lazily. The higher the sun got in the sky, the temperature followed suit.

I quickly put all the kitchen wares, second-hand clothing, and food I had purchased away except for a candle and its holder, which I situated in the window sill.

"Wonderful," I muttered, evaluating the room, including the new basin and washboard. Locking back up again, I looked both ways down the hallway. Foregoing the back stairs, I explored down the hall. All of the doors in the corridor were unsurprisingly locked. The other set of stairs was just around the corner at the end. The hum of voices lead me straight to the barkeep and John Shelby. It was close to one in the afternoon and the bar was completely empty besides the two. It wasn't until one of the last stairs creaked that the two men at the bar turned to me.

"Miss Marie!" Harry's eyebrows shot up, "Did the Daniels' let you out early?"

Not missing a beat, I gave him a small, toothy smile, "I'm lucky Alice casts such strong spells over Mister Daniels."

He laughed, throwing an arm up in a gesture to invite me over.

"Good to see you, Harry," I settled myself on a stool two away from the Shelby. When I turned to him, he was looking blankly back at me.

"We haven't met yet," I offered my hand to John, "You already know, but I'm Marie."

He rolled his tongue over the toothpick in his hand, giving me a cold once-over, "'M John." Given his stoic regard, I wasn't surprised when he didn't take my hand. Closing my smile, I folded both of my hands on the edge of the bar top.

"Can I get you anything?" Harry asked, breaking the brief silence between the three of us. I looked up at the shelves where most of the liquor was seated. Off toward the end of the bar, I spotted a familiar red.

"Is that a coffee grinder?" I asked before I could catch the question.

"Aye. Thomas brought it by earlier. Said every pub needs good coffee," Harry replied. I shook my head, trying to smother the unwelcome bubbling feeling in my chest.

"Coffee at an English bar. I'm surprised you haven't tossed it out yet," I teased lightly, observing the bolts that were securing it in place. Harry shrugged, holding out an empty glass in question.

"Water would be great, thanks," I reached back and brushed hair that escaped my bun off of my neck. John and I met gazes, "How did Katie like the cake?"

"She liked it just fine," he turned away from me, scratched above his brow, and bit back a smile, "She's been decorating mud pies since."

"I'm sure she's a natural," I accepted a glass from Harry with a quick thanks, "Probably not as tasty as something made by the Daniels."

"No, but the boys and the twins eat 'em anyway," he finished the whiskey in his glass after having a quiet chuckle. The crinkles at the corners of his eyes read to me like a book: True affection for his kids. His pursed lips and the crinkle in his chin gave me a glimpse at the regret he felt. Regret for what?

"Ah, well, what can you do? Kids eat dirt," Harry laughed.

"It sounds like she has good brothers" I offered.

"Yeah," he slid his whiskey glass back to Harry, "It's good they stick together."

He didn't say anything more on the subject.

"It must be nice to get some quiet in the day," I finished my water and returned the glass to Harry.

"Oh, you have no idea," Harry said in good humor.

Knowing I had interrupted the two when I came down the stairs, I decided it was time to leave.

"Well, I'm going to take a walk around town. Get to know the place more. You two have a good afternoon!"

Harry called his goodbyes after me while John just grunted. I could feel his eyes watching we as I went.

-o-

The next morning I found myself feeling incredibly lethargic. After cooking up some eggs and searing a roll on the pan, I settled near the window looking over the street. With numb hands, I opened the window wider to welcome in a small breeze. Even long after the food was gone, I sat still at the window, watching the happenings on the street closely from behind the lace curtain.

Summer days were wonderful because the daylight lasted for so long. However, the heat was nearly unbearable. The thought of getting out of the building crossed my mind, but the weight in my heart rooted me in place. The humidity had me taking shallow, slow breaths.

It wasn't until my stomach began growling several hours later that I realized the time. Cursing myself, I changed out of my night clothes and into a simple black dress and my boots before splashing my face with some water. My hands were still busy putting up my hair when I came barrelling down the stairs and into the Garrison.

"I was wondering if you might show your face!" Harry greeted from behind the bar. A rag and a glass were in his hands, "No work today?"

"Not today. I got a late start," the pin in my hair finally settled the way it was meant to and I set to making sure my collar was straightened out, "I'm actually on the run. Have a good one, Harry!"

Once out the bar door, I headed straight to the bakery. By the time I got there, Alice and MIster Daniels were cleaning up shop after closing for the day. Alice quizzed me on what I did with my weekend and led me into the back of the shop.

"Oh, not much," I said, "Just some shopping. Today I stayed mostly in my apartment. Plenty of recuperation and preparation for the long work week you and Mister Daniels have coming for me!"

"Robert is fine," the taller, gruffer one of my two employers grunted, picking up a bag of flour from inventory and moving it into the kitchen.

With a smile, I rested my palm against my heart, "Well, Alice and Robert, I want to thank you both again."

"O' course, sweetheart!" Alice tucked some hair behind her ear, "You've done good work for us. I'm glad you've settled yourself."

"So!" I gestured to a massive rolled up carpet leaning against a wall, "This must be it."

Robert grunted before disappearing out the back door, not stopping his closing ritual for company.

"It's worn, but it should do you good. Once the winter comes, you'll be glad your feet won't be icey," Alice patted the rug affectionately.

I pinned a smile on my face, feeling a pang of guilt for leading the Daniels on to think I would still be around by then.

"It is a mammoth of a rug," she put both hands on her hips, "I asked young Nathan to be a gentleman and help you carry it home. Do you remember him?"

One side of my mouth curled, "Yes, I remember Nathan. The butcher's son?" How could I forget him? He was the first person Thomas has assigned to gather information on me.

As if his ears were burning, the bells of the front door rang and shortly after Nathan himself entered.

"We were just talking about you!" Alice said kindly.

"'Ello Misses Daniels," the boy shifted his weight from one leg to the next, "Miss Marie."

"Hello, Nathan," I replied with cheer, settling a palm onto the beast, "Feeling up for the challenge?"

His uncertainty eased and he gave me a grin, "I'm ready for anyfin', Miss."

"Wonderful. Let's get to it then."

-o-

Nathan and I made quick work of carrying the cumbersome rug from the bakery to the Garrison, with me leading the way. When we made it to the bar, a group of men greeted us and offered their help.

"No, thank you," sweat dripped down my temple, "We've got it." My helper grunted in agreement, hitching the rug higher in his grip. We had made it that far, and only a short distance was between us and our destination.

"This is noffin'."

They looked doubtful, but nodded nonetheless and let us know if we changed our mind, we could hollar. Nathan followed me dutifully to the back staircase and all the way to the room. With one hand I reached into my pocket for the key and with the other I painfully balanced the rug on the cusp of my hip.

Finally we were able to toss the rug to the ground with a mighty _thud_. He, like me, was sweating and heaving a deep breath of relief. Immediately I grabbed two face cloths, dampened them in a waiting basin of water, and handed one to him. He took it and wiped his face of all the sweat.

"Good work," I said, "You're a very strong young man." His chest puffed up and he toothily smiled.

"Yeah, you're pretty strong too fer a-" the boy stopped short when he saw my eyebrow pop up. With round eyes, Nathan quickly began stitching together an apology, stuttering all the way.

I laughed at his expense, folding my cloth and draping it on the back of my neck, "Why don't you help me move the furniture and roll out this beast. I'm going to fry some potatoes and onions for dinner, if you'd like to eat before you go."

"Aw, no- I mean, I'll help, but I can't stay-"

"Come, now," I coaxed, "It's the least I can do."

He looked at me thoughtfully.

"You any good at cookin'?" he asked.

"I'd say so," I replied crossing my arms.

"You gonna make me eat carrots?" he said, eyeing my bowl of vegetables at my kitchen area.

"That depends," I teased, "Are we going to keep talking or are we going to get this done?"

Before I even finished, Nathan was pushing furniture out of the way. By the time that we had laid down the carpet and moved all of the furniture back, both of our stomachs were roaring with hunger.

Nathan sat quietly at the table while I worked on seasoning our food in the cast iron pan. His heel tapped with the persistence of a rabbit's heart. When I looked over at him, his head whipped away from me to concentrate on the grain of my furniture. Gears were turning in his young mind.

"Do you normally get Sundays off?" I asked.

He jolted out of a reverie, "Naw, not always. If-"

For the second time that day, Nathan cut himself off.

"I mean, I get some Sunday's off," his lips pursed and the corners of his mouth turned down. I studied him as he looked back at me to see if I caught his snag.

"Don't worry about me. I've already accepted that you work for the Peaky Blinders," I caught his eye and smiled at him. Apprehension guarded his eyes. I held out a hand casually with my palm up, "What were you saying?"

"If I work on Sunday, the Shelby's let me off early for dinner with my ma and da," he replied.

"That's nice of them," I stirred the crisp potatoes and caramelized onions a few more times before reaching out for a plate, "Is it okay you're eating here?"

"Ma serves dinner late. It's good stuff," he handed me a dish and grinned, "I'll just eat boff."

"Of course! Why didn't I think of that," I chuckled and served us both before sitting with him.

To his credit, my company waited with his fork eagerly poised at his mouth for me to load my own fork and begin to eat before he also dug in. His brown hair was laced with strands of gold and freckles punctuated the tops of his tanned cheeks.

"It must be hard to work so often," I commented.

"It ain't so bad," he said with food in his mouth, "I learn a lot a stuff."

"I bet. Do you ever miss playing with other kids?"

"Sometimes, I guess," he told me between mouthfuls, "Used t' go down to the quad a lot wiff my baby sis."

Right before my eyes I watched as he cleared his plate and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"What's the quad?" I took another large bite, savoring the taste of rosemary on my tongue.

"Just some grass. Ain't much of it in Birmingham, lots of kids play games there," Nathan then chugged his whole glass of water before slouching in his chair.

"Your sister must have loved that," I set my fork down and relaxed into my own chair, throwing one arm behind the headrest and crossing my legs, "I adored it when my siblings took me out." I looked out the window, seeing the faces of those lost.

"How many you got?"

I blinked, "Sorry?"

"Siblin's. How many you got?" he repeated.

"Three," I pulled a smile and stood up, "It's getting late. You should get home for your second dinner."

"Mm!" he jumped out of his chair and put a hand on his stomach, "Thanks for the food. You ain't that bad at cookin'."

"Yes, well, not all of us can cook as well as your mum," I replied, unoffended that the young kid was getting more comfortable with me. Last I had seen him, I thought he might fall over, "Thanks for your help."

"No problem! See you 'round!" he called before practically running out my door, which hung ajar after his departure. I listened to his boots thump down the stairs and the heavy door slam before leaving my half empty plate on the table next to his polished one. Closing my apartment door with a quick _click_ , I walked to the window and watched him run down the street toward his home.

The familiar numbness leaked into me again. When I reached into my pocket for matches, I fumbled to strike one and light the candle sitting in the sill. Carefully I laid myself on my bed, leaving my day-clothes on, and willed some rest to find me. It was still bright out, but I was expecting a visitor in the dead of night and had an early shift not long after.

Hours passed. My heart was beating hard in my ears as I considered my visit with Earnest, my conversations with both Thomas and John Shelby, and the information I had gleaned from Nathan. Finally, with thoughts of John's kids, their nameless twin friends, and the grassy quad, my body fell into a shallow pool of darkness.

-o-

"Ahem."

My arms and neck jerked. With eyes wide open, I registered the familiar face and willed my heart to slow.

"Frank," I pushed myself up from my mattress and pushed hair away from my face, "I see you let yourself in."

The man was sitting at the table where Nathan and I shared our meal, one heel balanced on the opposite knee. He held up his lockpick tools in one of his gloved hands, "Figured if you weren't right on time, you were catching some sleep." In his other hand, he was clutching the handles of a leather duffle bag. Wordlessly, he got up and set it near my bed side.

"You're always so light on your feet, no wonder I didn't hear you come in," I murmured, swinging my feet over the side of the bed and reaching for the bag. He smirked in return.

 _Ziiiiiip_.

One by one I took out the items inside. Two separate revolvers, a lockpick set identical to his, a container of Rough on Rats arsenic, a blue bottle of mercury bichloride, a flask of potent whiskey, a basic first aid kit, a sheathed knife with a thigh strap, a magnifying glass, test tubes, tweezers, cleverly folded maps, a set of turquoise jewelry with false backs…

More and more came out of the bag. I slowed when I got to the tied-up stacks of letters and my personal leather bound journal. Not far beyond that were several hundreds of dollars worth of bearer bonds banded together in small rolls. All of the items were cradled in a bed of clothing from home.

"Are you finding everything to your liking?"

I looked up to see he has silently moved to to the other side of my bed so he was lit by the windling candle on the window sill, but not in danger of being seen from the road or windows of neighboring buildings. His dirty blonde hair and full beard shone red in the cast light. It was a relief to see him. More than the comfort I felt seeing the man who had driven me since I was born, I was at ease to see a man who I had learned to consider my friend and most reliable advisor.

"Yes. Thank you for bringing this to me," the side of my mouth quirked up as I carefully sorted through the items, "Will you help me put these underneath my floor board?"

"Ah, Earnest did mention that you are taking precautions due to interference of a... _Thomas Shelby_ ," his fist curled, cracking several of his knuckles, "Do let me know if you decide he needs to be dealt with."

I did not respond right away. Nonetheless, he helped me gather the supplies and followed me over to the corner where I discovered the loose board. With my foot I rolled the carpet back before using the dagger to prop the board out.

"I don't think Thomas Shelby is a threat to me," I paused, beginning to organize the small space, "At the moment, in any case."

"I hope you tell me the moment that changes, Miss Bray."

I looked up into his hazel eyes, considering his severe tone. Unlike me, he continued to unload the items in his arm as he maintained eye contact.

"I will."

Satisfied with my answer, he rocked onto his feet and folded his arms behind himself. Gently putting the board back in place and flipping the carpet back down, I pushed myself up and loftily settled on the edge of my bed.

"Before I get your debrief, I'd like to know if Earnest has any preliminary results for his Peaky Blinder research," I reached reached up and rubbed my eyes before dragging my fingertips down and under my chin..

"You know our Earnest. He's keeping most of it to himself until he's certain. Though, he did mention the name Inspector Campbell, which I thought you would find interesting."

My ears perked at this, "That bastard from Ireland who works under Uncle Monty?"

"The very same," Frank grinned at me and one of his back fillings glinted.

"And what is there to know there?" I asked, my curiosity increasing ten fold.

"The details are still clouded, but a large shipment of guns went missing shortly before the Inspector arrived here in Birmingham. Around the same time an Irish woman began working at the Garrison. We haven't confirmed any connection, but…"

"You don't believe in sheer coincidence," I finished for him, looking thoughtfully at the floor, "I don't believe I've seen her. Does she play a part in the Peaky Blinders?"

"Not anymore," he waited for me to look into his eyes again before continuing, "She and the head Blinder were... _involved_. She also departed around the time Campbell did. We've yet to verify a correlation between the two."

Under the scrutiny of Frank I kept my face smooth. Shaking the feeling of surprise, and scolding myself for being surprised in the first place, I hummed quietly.

Earnest had on many occasions insisted that Frank never falsely relay information to me. Where Earnest could sometimes be too careful, Frank could be too abrupt. Hearing him now, I could pick out the words that Ernest had taught him. It didn't escape me that he had no doubt about Thomas and the woman.

"And the guns? Have they been found?"

"Unconfirmed. You may want to ask your Uncle Monty," Frank joshed.

I rolled my eyes, "Tight-Lipped Montgomery? I'm sure he'd be a huge help."

"It could be worth your time."

I thought on it for several more moments before deciding, "I want to deliberately play my cards with Monty. Even though he's estranged from the family, he feels a sense of duty toward his blood. I'm saving that for when I need it most."

He tilted his head, "That's probably wise."

"Is there anything else on the Shelby's?"

"We know that they have their caps in illegal betting. From what we can tell, they are trying to work their way up into the legal realm."

At this I got up and grabbed my dinner plate from hours before. Though cold, the food was still good. I ate it quickly and quietly before washing it down with some water.

"Interesting. I suspected they were working with big money," I crossed my arms behind my head thoughtfully, "Enough about them. What other updates do you have for me?"

Frank suddenly became serious, a dark storm brewing in his eyes. As the room became thick with rage, my senses heightened.

"Your suspicions about your father's autopsy were correct. The format of the reports at the Shield Funeral Home don't match the report that is filed with the police," Frank reached into his jacket and pulled out an off white folded paper. Instantly I was by his side, holding it for myself.

"You believe this is the original?" I asked with steel in my voice.

"Yes."

"I see."

Wordlessly he handed me the autopsy that the police had provided me with several days after my dad had passed. Eyeing the two, I noted several small variations besides the content. The border illustrations on the page did not match and the alignment of the text in relation to each line was off calibration by a few points.

"We were correct. Dad didn't die of a natural heart attack." My voice, like my chest, was hollow. Frank made no reply, and instead only watched me steadily. Having already believed this to be so, I did not feel shock. Instead, the thrill of validation pulsed through me, stoking the fire of my vengeful intent.

"How useful this information is… Tell me Frank, what has our Black Haron been up to?"

"He's been circling the investors of Bray Transit, keeping close tabs on them. Everyone is waiting for the will to be fully disclosed. I think it goes without saying that if he was involved with Ellis' death, he will try the same with you if it means he has control over the finances of the business."

"He does have the right connections with the London police force to access these documents. I won't even ask how _you_ got a hold of them," making my way back, I placed the two forms on the table, "It certainly isn't an accident that the note about the injection site on his neck was removed."

"No, I think not," he paused, "Miss Bray?"

"Yes?"

"You and I both think it was him."

"But?"

"I think it would be unwise to leave any stone unturned."

"You were the one who said you are ready to strike," I shot back, my voice void of accusation and full of challenge.

"Not to strike to kill. Think more along the lines of home invasion and robbery. Intell gathering, really." his eyes flashed. I nodded, running my fingertips back and forth over my chin.

Silence passed between us. My first clenched and unclenched several times before I spoke again.

"Continue to watch him closely. Earnest has been instructed to tell investors to hold tight or lose out on any possible gains. I would not be surprised if the arse is convincing the board members to vote me off of the board. I want to concentrate on Birmingham and any leads of Anya before I deal with our Black Haron- if possible."

"Yes, of course. You'd have me hold off on invading the nest?"

"For now."

"Yes, ma'am…" Frank trailed off. For the first time that evening, he showed true discomfort; he shifted his weight as if he were to step toward me, but remained rooted in place.

"What have you found on Anya?" he finally asked.

"I'm sure you heard of the drunk with twins from Earnest. Coincidentally, these twins are close friends with the kids of one of the Peaky Blinders," my voice became more dry as the words went on.

"That would be your luck," he mused, "And I suppose you have plans for him?"

"The drunk? Why do you think I had you bring my bag?" my jaw clenched, but a smirk pulled at the corner of my mouth, "I came for blood."

He wearily smiled, "You remind me of your mother. She suffered no fools."

A warm spark spread through my body.

"Mamma was just, but protected her family before anything else," I extinguished all of my giddiness, my heart suddenly going sour, "She would have never let Anya go. She would have found answers."

"It's hard to say," Frank disagreed, "She was brave and she knew how to dive for an opportunity when it arose. She also wouldn't put her children at risk. She'd want you to watch yourself, as well."

I scrunched my nose, "I go back and forth all the time. What do you think? Are the desires of the dead worth anything?"

"That depends on how much of those people live on in you," he replied easily.

I hummed, "As always, you leave me with more questions than answers. I'll think on all of this. And I will watch after myself."

"I know you do," he said warmly, "And we will as well."

"What would I do without you two," I admitted.

"Probably get yourself into trouble."

I shook my head, but could not disagree aloud.

"Let Earnest know our next meeting place will be in the bakery courtyard. I expect to hear from him a week from today. Eight in the afternoon sharp. Have him keep an eye out for the second candle for impromptu meetings. If anything urgent arises, I'll call your direct line," I stood and moved in front of him, "Thank you for everything. You know how much it means to me."

"I do," he assured, gently taking my shoulders in his hands for a brief squeeze before releasing me, "I'd never dream of telling a Bray what to do, but I do recommend that you consider seeing the investors and the board members soon just to show your face. It would build moral."

"I'll consider it," I sat back down on my bed, "Before you go I have one more favor to ask."

"Of course."

"I've been having a hard time sleeping. Will you stay until I nod off?"

Frank stepped to the window sill and extinguished the candle with two fingers, pulling shadow over the room. As he settled into one of my chairs, I laid back in bed. With some shifting, I found a comfortable position on my side with my back to him. The corners of my eyes watered as I stared unblinkingly at the light that the moon cast through the window. The breeze pushed and pulled my curtains. A dog barked in the distance.

"What keeps you up at night?" he broke the quiet.

"The terror-stricken expression in his clouding eyes when I found him. The purple that settled on the side of his face where he laid cold," a shiver wracked my body, "The thought of him being alone when he needed me."

Many moments passed.

"We are going to avenge his death," Frank finally said.

"I know," I replied, "And we're going to find out what happened to Anya."

"Then let that help you sleep."

My breaths became deeper. My muscles loosened. When my eyes were too heavy to keep open, I finally submitted.

When I woke the next morning to birds chirping he was long gone, and the two autopsy reports were stored safely in the floor.

A pair of fine leather gloves sat on the chair in his place. They were just my size.

-o-

 **Author's Note**.

Thank you all for your patience, I'm sorry it has been so long. The last year has been a slice of hell. I will say that I hope the worst has passed for now.

I NEED FEEDBACK. Sonja "Marie" Bray is supposed to be a highly intelligent, emotionally unadjusted, and at times very reckless character. This character isn't the type who is going to let a little guilt over lying to those around her to keep her from getting shit done. She will risk everything for her goals. Through all of this, she's also supposed to be a family woman who deeply values the people who are most loyal to her (Frank and Ernest). This character is supposed to be able to see the good in those around her (John Shelby's kids, Harry, the Daniels', Nathan) and want to protect them while still being a deviant herself. Peaky Blinders is a show full of incredibly complex characters who operate outside of the "good versus evil" paradigm.

Given all of that (^^^), do you have any advice on how I might make her more believable? Is she believable as-is? I can assure you that she's going to slip up in the future (I won't spoil it for anyone, but a character must have failure to have success).

Here's a reminder that if one of my chapters reaches **ten reviews** before the next one is posted, I will randomly choose one reviewer to receive **an exclusive sneak peek** of the upcoming chapter.

 **Review Responses**.

 _Nim-Silma_ – I'm sorry it's been so long. I hope this update finds you well! Even though the two aren't crazy for eachother (yet), I hope the tension is building in a satisfying way. I know this chapter has a lot of "Marie"-centric content. I promise it'll all amount up to something. Thank you for reviewing.

 _Miss Scarlet Darkness_ – No delicate flowers here! Our "Marie" is shaping up to be a bit of a femme fatale… I still want to work on getting the flow on this chapter juuuuuust right, but I hope you enjoy it in the meantime. Thank you for reviewing!

 _purpleXorchid_ – These two definitely ruffle each other's feathers- it is soooo much fun to write. I hope you enjoyed learning a little more about her father. In time, it'll all come together! Thank you for reviewing, feedback helps me get better.

 _Lady Shagging Godiva_ – Thanks for reviewing! I hope this full update finds you soon. I finished it waaaay later than I had anticipated.

 _Mymymetrocard_ – Suspicious Tommy is a freakin' ball to write. Just wait, he's going to get less predictable very soon. Thanks for reviewing!

 _Elp109_ – Thank you for the kind review! I hope this keeps your interest. I hope to get another chapter out in a few months.

 _Boomer1125_ – Here it is! I hope you enjoy it. Thanks for reading.

 _SilverGhostKitsune_ – I was thinking about this review as I was doing preliminary edits- I really hope I live up to your expectations with this update.

 _Raging Raven_ – Aaaah, I'm glad you like her so much! She's kinda tricky to write. I guess that's what makes her interesting to write though- she has a mind of her own. Thank you for your review.

 _To all of my Reader's under "Guest"_ – Thank you for reading and reviewing! Each review means the world to me.


	5. Chapter 5: Ellis, the Harbor

_When I woke the next morning to birds chirping he was long gone, and the two autopsy reports were stored safely in the floor._

 _A pair of fine leather gloves sat on the chair in his place. They were just my size._

\- o -

With eyes wide open, I searched him for any sign of grief. Or anxiety. Or even fury.

"We give You thanks, Almighty God, for all Thy benefits, and for the poor souls of the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, may they rest in peace. Amen."

He then patiently waited for me with his hands still clasped and his eyes closed. Taking a quiet breath, I shut my eyes and recited my mother's Grace.

" _I Jesu namn till bords vi gå. Äta dricka på Guds ord Gud till ära oss till gagn sa fa vi mat i Jesu namn. Amen_."

We broke form in unison before beginning on our meal - a thick stew and today's bakery bread. The snow was nearly a foot deep outside, and we were tucked away safely in our dining room. Dinners those days were quiet. Often, my father would bring his work to the table and the sound of crisp papers being flipped and utensils clicking on dishware kept the evening's tempo.

I knew he wanted to speak to me at length that evening because he left his books untouched. Our pewter chandelier cast a gleaming light on his bifocals which sat atop the pile. And so I waited.

"Lawrence made a call to the house today." He didn't make me wait long. I raised both of my brows and smirked.

"Really? Since when does Mister Harrington call for work long after hours?" I jested before taking another bite.

"This wasn't related to the railways, Sonja," my father set down his spoon and laid both of his hands of the arm rests of his chair. His light green eyes pierced my own, and I realized quickly from the dissecting stare that he had begun an interrogation.

"I'll bite. What did he want?" I set down my spoon, mimicking his posture and tilting my head. My adrenaline had the hair on the back of my neck on end, but I measured my breathing and minded my shoulders. The look was meant to appear curious and composed- a variation on one of the poker faces that I practiced when trying to beat Rhys and Felix.

My mind flashed from the hours upon hours of competitive play with my rambunctious, carefree brothers to the image I had conjured up many times of two shivering men in uniforms with matching dull hazel eyes and homesick hearts. The thought of them and the war almost had my mask slipping. How much snow was France getting? I shoved the idea back, further back than it had been before.

Father put a hand to his chin. It was one of his tells; he too was controlling his reactions, and the hand was a safeguard. If he needed a moment to regroup, his next gesture would be a knuckle pressed to his mouth to prevent movement.

"He called from the Mayfair train station. He was headed North for a short holiday," he said.

Genuine surprise. Both of my eyebrows went up and I let out a long, measured hum, "Really? Today? I was at the Mayfair station. I didn't see Mister Harrington."

After watching me for several moments, my father touched his temple. Irritation- he knew I was playing coy.

"He said you were standing there for a while on your own," my father clenched his free hand into a fist at his next words, "He was worried for you."

"Worried?" I replied. A plume of anger flared inside me. Father didn't say anything immediately. This game was familiar: he wanted to see what would happen the longer he made room for me to speak. I popped some more bread into my mouth before washing it down with water and wiping my mouth with a napkin. His analysis was relentless.

"He should have come and greeted me," I swept some of my hair behind my shoulder, "I wouldn't want to _worry_ him."

He shook his head. Though I couldn't be certain, I thought panic flashed past his features. If it was there, it passed before I could grasp it, and replaced with a cool look that reminded me that Ellis Bray did not tolerate antics.

"Who were you waiting for?" he asked rigidly.

Suckling briefly at the inside of my cheek, I released with a cluck, "Don't ask questions you don't want the answers to, Father."

"Sonja!" he beat his fist against the table suddenly. His collected disposition was broken by rapidly boiling anger.

I flinched.

"I will not ask you again."

"I was waiting for Anja. She wrote me," I relented, "I waited for hours. She never showed up."

"She has a husband and two children,"he pressed his knuckle to his mouth and I watched knowingly, "You need to stop these neurotic delusions of paranoia."

This gross betrayal of our trust seared me and I was so inflamed I could have spat.

"Or perhaps you need to drop this act," I hissed, discarding my facade to let him see the anguish and turbulence beneath it, "You don't even believe that she's fine anymore. Look me in the eye and tell me that you do."

"I have told you time and time again-" his finger beat down on the wood of the table with every other syllable.

" _What?!_ " I thundered, getting to my feet at an instant, "You have told me what? To _leave it be_? She has been distant and out of touch over a year! This isn't like her! Or do you not even know your own daughter?"

"Sit down," he said cooly, his composure suddenly shifting back into place.

"The hell I will!" I shouted.

"I said, SIT DOWN!" His roar made my own seem meek in comparison. Even so, I remained standing with my chest heaving with every breath.

"In the letter I got from her-"

"Stop this now, Sonja-"

"I'll show it to you! You'll see her handwriting! She letters have been becoming fewer and farther between since she left with Anthony, and now I get an urgent letter from her-"

"Sonja-"

"She said she was desperate!" I felt my eyes begin to water and my voice wavered.

Several moments passed between us and I waited. My lungs housed a weak flicker of hope, shielding it from the gusts of our storm. This spark, the last of its kind, vibrated and swelled as the edges of his eyes crumpled in pain.

"She made her choice," he said quietly, "I'm sure it's nothing."

The hope sputtered, went out, and then returned more frail than before.

"She's married! She isn't dead. Father, something is wrong. I can _feel_ it," I braced both palms on the table in front of me and leaned toward him, "You can feel it, too."

"This is nonsense," he uttered. Liar.

"You are an up and rising business tycoon of steel and railways," I slapped my palms on the surface in emphasis and our forgotten food rattled, "There isn't anything you can't do if you are just willing TO DO IT!"

My yells left and the room stilled. He didn't say anything. Though there had been pain on his face before, the distance he was creating between us was palpable and my spite outweighed my capability for empathy. The spark was extinguished, and I knew I would never look at him the same again. Bitter tears ran down my face silently, one by one.

"You need to leave this be," my father finally uttered, "She'll be fine."

Clenching my jaw and tying each of the wretched sobs inside of me to its own rib, I shook my fist at my waist. More than breathing, I wanted to break something. Or many things. My graying father dropped his head in one hand, refusing to meet my eyes. It felt like there was nothing else to be said, and I stormed from the room in a flurry of fabric.

The dining room was already meters behind me when I swiveled on my heel, doubled back, and balanced myself on the door frame.

"I know he has something to do with this," venom dripped from my tongue.

"What are you talking about," he asked wearily.

With eyes narrowed into slits, I hissed at him, "You know exactly who I'm talking about."

\- o -

Birmingham smelled of fire and coal. Even on a bright day, smog may veil the roads.

The morning after Frank's first visit to Birmingham, my work routine ran like clockwork. Through the bakery doors by six in the morning, and out shortly after five in the evening. However, after my shift ended I did not head straight back to the Garrison. Instead, I explored the streets of Birmingham in all of its dense, dirty glory. The roads were loud and lively. With the days that passed, I grew accustomed to the lanes that were lit by ten foot tall flames.

That day's disguise was a long, short sleeve gray dress with a brimmed black hat. My hair was pleated down my back and tied with a white ribbon. I received greetings in stride- some of them more crude than others- not caring to remember faces, for better or for worse. It took me the better part of two hours to steadily make my way around and survey every street I came to before I found what I was looking for.

The quad.

Sweaty, loud children ran through the small field. There was more dirt than grass to be seen, but this did not stop them from bumping into each other and falling to the ground. Plenty of kids were there, but no small Shelby's were in sight. I continued on for another few streets before making my way back to the apartment.

The next couple of days passed the same, beginning and ending with me avoiding anyone other than the Daniels' and the bakery customers. When I was alone, the world around me closed. Out of compulsion, I scoured every letter Anya had sent, running over the details I had over and over again while pacing my small apartment.

Nearly eight years since she had moved to Birmingham. A marriage at the town hall with no invitation. A photo with two infants, near identical. Ellis Bray, my father. His distance. Her near absence. The Mayfair Station. Her disappearance. The board. Lawrence Harrington. The passing of the boys. Our railroad competitors. My father's arupt death. Birmingham. The bakery. The Daniels'. The Shelby's. _Thomas Shelby_. The drunk with kids. The quad. Two coroner's reports. Police corruption.

The drunk. The drunk.

The drunk.

\- o -

On Thursday of that week, I finally spotted Katie and her brothers sprinting and rolling through the quad grass on my walk home. Not unlike their elder Shelby's, and unsurprisingly, all of their peers gave them several feet of extra space.

All of their peers, that is, with the exception of two kids, a boy and girl, both with matching dark hair and gray clothing. They were standing together the first time I saw them- or really, I saw the back of their heads. My pace slowed but never stopped as I watched them from under the rim of my black hat. They were clearly bickering. The boy angrily gave the girl a shove and I caught both of their facial profiles.

A raw sore opened up in the back of my throat. It was hard to mistake the straight and full Bray nose, even on a child. The mixture of hope, dread, and disbelief running in my veins nearly stopped me in my tracks. Something in my chest tugged me toward them, but I refused to give into the impulse and swallowed the scolding that was waiting on my tongue.

Suddenly the boy was tackled by John Junior and his brother and I saw Katie squat next to the girl, who had tumbled to the ground. Another spike- worry- struck my heart. But then I heard the three boys laughing. Not far from them, I saw a woman with curly brown hair watching the lot of them with a young infant in her arms.

 _Perhaps another Shelby woman_ , I thought and turned my head away from them moments before she looked toward me.

The walk home felt like a dream. Weightless. The sensibility that Earnest taught me reminded me that it was not a confirmation. The intuition that Frank fostered in me whispered, _you know it's true_.

That night I lit a second candle in my window sill.

The next morning Earnest met me at the far corner of Garrison lane at half past five in the morning. That is to say, he stationed himself at the corner reading a paper until I neared him, when he unnecessarily checked his watch and began walking behind me through the crowds of Birmingham civilians with three paces between us. It was far enough that we weren't associated easily, but close enough that he could hear me.

"It seems the lead is solid," I had my head tucked down with my face shielded by another hat- this time in navy blue, "I'm going to need you to find employment at this district's Nest. Something secretarial or administrative."

"I'll get working on documentation as soon as we part, miss," he also had his eyes to the ground with a light brown news cap shielding his face.

"What is the update on the investors?"

"Holding still, for now."

"And the board?"

"Restless, but the same."

"Good. I'd like a full update next time. Frank should have given you the time and location."

"He has," he sped up to pass me and uttered, "Until then."

And he crossed the road behind a passing cart and disappeared down a perpendicular street.

\- o -

Later, several house sparrows were hopping along the sidewalk in front of the bakery door, pecking up small crumbs that Alice had laid out earlier. We had only just opened shop for the day, and the streets were gradually flooding with more townspeople.

"Marie! Look sharp, lass."

I pressed myself into the bakery counter as Robert barrelled behind me with a tall basket of breads. No words were passed between us as we unloaded the breads into their respective bins behind the glass pane. When he was done, he balanced the massive basket on one hand above his head and left as quickly as he came.

Alice appeared by my side with the white frosted cake for my demonstration table. With a wane smile, I collected it with ease and began getting ready. My boss remained behind the counter, watching me with her careful eyes.

"I heard at the market this morning that you and a certain Shelby went shopping last weekend," she said with the casualty that you expect to accompany a comment about the weather from one stanger to the next.

It caused me to stop for a beat before continuing to dye a bowl of frosting with carrot juice. Had it been nearly a week? Though I thought of his place in my search hundreds of times, I had not crossed paths with Thomas Shelby since that day.

"As it turns out, Mister Shelby isn't a half bad landlord. He insisted to pay for the stove," I matched her tone and shrugged, feeling grateful that the bakery was currently empty.

"How kind of him." Her intonation suggested otherwise.

"Yes, well, you know how kind our local gangsters are," I droned sardonically.

"He isn't that kind to all of us," she replied.

Exasperated, I gave her a pointed look, "I didn't take you for a gossip."

It was her turn to shrug, "Just curious. Those Shelby's are trouble."

I frowned, stirring tumeric into another bowl of frosting with quick whips of my arm. Alice did not try to speak over the noise of my spoon hitting the ceramic bowl. Instead, she plastered a smile onto her face and welcomed two old women when the bell above the door rang.

"Bertha, Ingrid! How are you two doing today?"

\- o -

Before the lunch rush, we sold the cake of the day which had a sweet pattern of pipped suns and clouds crowning each of the three layers. By noon, the bakery was swarmed with different types of folks from Birmingham. Numerous mothers, young boys and girls, factory workers, and the elderly passed through our doors. The spinach and meat pies were getting purchased faster than we could have them baked. When the timer went off for the newest batch, both Alice and Robert were busy taking and filling orders. I slipped into the kitchen, opened the oven door, and confidently reached in to grab the tray.

" _Son of a butcher_!" I cursed loudly, dropping the tray back onto the oven shelf with a loud _clatter_. Soon after, the oven slammed shut and shook the entire appliance. More crass cusses passed my lips quietly as I grasped my right wrist which was shaking in pain.

Alice burst through the kitchen doors with an urgency on her face, "What's happened?"

"Nothing- nothing," I ground out, gripping harder and biting my lip, "I'm just a bloody idiot. I don't know where my _fucking_ head was, I grabbed the pies without a mit." I growled quietly at myself and shook my head to try to outwit the pain.

"Are you okay?" Alice came closer and I held the burned hand out to stop her. Pain shot through my arm.

"'M fine. Let me chill it and wrap it," I inhaled deeply and blinked back the water gathering at the edges of my eyes.

"Let me take a look," Alice scolded and grasped my elbow with one hand. With the other, she took my wrist before inspected my injury shortly, "Aye, you'll be fine. Put some of the honey on that before you wrap it. It'll help with the scarring."

Though a rotten mood had clouded me all day, I couldn't stop the chortle that escaped me, "Is this a common baker's wound?"

"Very," Alice hummed, "But a careless one, nonetheless. Is something on your mind?"

I shook my head.

Hesitating, she said calmly, "Do you think you should go home?" There was a scorching heat radiating from the shiny forming blisters. _I deserve it_ , I told myself and shook my head again.

She quickly grabbed a oven mit and pulled out the tray of pies to cool before they burned. After running my hand under cool water for several minutes, I moved toward one of the many ingredient cabinets and quickly uncapped the honey. Though I could hear the hoards of people out in the front room, Alice waited with me. She grabbed gauze from their first aid kit and began wrapping my hand as soon as I had soothing honey pooling in my palm.

When she finished, I admired the way the bandage caressed my fingers and palm just tightly enough without making it uncomfortable.

"Does it hurt?" she asked.

"I'm definitely feeling some pain," I understated jokingly.

"Good. I'd be worried if it didn't," she patted my shoulder, "If you're sure you don't want to take the rest of the day off, let's get back to work."

I nodded and followed her out of the kitchen. When we reached Robert, he let out a sigh of relief. He barked out a couple of directions to us and we both fell back into rhythm with the customer demand. Despite the persistent pain, I worked hard to keep pace with the Daniels'.

After we cleared out the worst of the backlog of customers, Robert elbowed me lightly in the arm.

"So what 'appened?" he nodded toward my hand.

"Grabbed a pan without a mit," I muttered.

Unexpectedly, Robert belted out a loud, rough laugh, "Bet yeh won't be doin' that again!"'

I couldn't help but chuckle myself.

\- o -

The muscles in my left arm were straining, but I kept wiping down each of the tables and cradling my wrapped hand to my stomach. None of us had spoken about the burn again, but it was needless to say that it didn't absolve me of my closing responsibilities. Just like any other day at the bakery, I packaged the unsold goods, helped Robert carry the deliveries into the inventory, and gave the entire store front a quick clean.

Satisfied with the shine of the tables, I returned the cleaning supplies to their home and closed the closet behind me with a soft _click_.

"Marie?"

Alice's voice ran through me, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. Her light brown hair was curling wildly in the humid summer air.

"Yes?"

"Why don't you head on home? It's been a long week, and tomorrow is going to be just as busy," said in a decisive way. Was that I sugar powdered command?

I nudged back, testing the boundary, "I still have to count the drawers."

"Don't worry about it," she said with a finality, "Right, Robert?"

"I'll get the drawers," her husband was stocking by and rumbled this in passing, leaving no room to protest.

Reluctantly, I hung my apron up. Alice put a hand on my shoulder with the same firmness she had taken my elbow earlier, leading me toward the exit.

"I don't mean to pry… It just seems like your demons are eating at you," Alice reached down to grab my uninjured hand, "Is there anything you want to talk about?"

With so much on my mind, I thought I might burst at the inquiry.

At my silence she squeezed me gently, "Darling, I know what it's like to be new in town. How isolating it can feel."

Sometimes people confused me. My impulse was to find her secondary motive- why was she collecting information? I crossed the thought from my mind because- I reminded myself for the umpteenth time- Alice and Robert were normal. This bakery had been run for decades by these two people. They had raised a son above this shop. Robert had grown up here.

Birmingham was their everyday life. And they believed I was trying to settle down in their town- that I was a simple grieving stranger who had a talent for _cake decoration_ , of all things. I wondered if they would ever know the truth about the poisonous viper they had assimilated into their lives.

"I've been thinking a lot about my father," I heard myself saying, "I think these are growing pains. I'm still making room for the grief in my heart."

Still finding a way to reconcile my admiration and love of my fathers memory with my deliberate revolt against his orders and the resentment I felt toward him from stopping me for so long.

"I'm so sorry," Alice said, "It will take time, but it will become easier."

"I know," I smiled sadly, "You always seem to be worrying about me, but I'll be fine."

She looked unconvinced and held open the door for me, "Get some rest."

"See you both in the morning," I promised.

On the walk to Garrison Lane, I considered telling the Daniels my name. It was by no means adequate repayment for their magnanimity, but a voice that sounded like my own whispered from the recesses of my mind, _it's the least you can do_.

But it also could be my downfall. At that point my name was one of the only things of value I possessed. The problem with sharing information is that you forfeit a fraction of your certainty every time you do so. I suspected that my father's demise had been the a result of spinning the wrong loose end.

When all was said and done, I planned to slither on out of their lives. Eventually, I would be one of their distant memories.

\- o -

I was in my childhood summer home on the countryside. Or was I? The bright cottage I remembered had three small bedrooms on the second floor and a spacious first floor. The front door faced a old dirt road. In my memories, I see oak furniture to match the floors, a red carpet, and several shelves full with books, playing cards, boxes of tools, paper and pencils. My parents had a liquor cabinet and sideboard that faced out the back bay window toward the hills which shimmered with golden grass. That was the sanctuary I knew.

A moonless night sky cloaked the doppelganger around me in shadow. Through the darkness, I saw the walls were stripped of their decorations save for the cream wallpaper and the empty brass lamps that punctuated it. As children, we had been forbidden from touching the glass.

Only the large black iron stove remained on the ground. Once before it, I turned its handle, opened the hatch and ran my hand through the ashes, crushing small bits of charcoal between the pads of my thumb and forefinger.

A radiant orange light erupted behind me. When I approached the bay window, I didn't stop until my breath fogged its pane. Flames consumed the landscape for miles. Rolling and twisting smoke rose into the sky in a suffocating brigade.

 _Tick_ , _tick_ , _tick_.

Looking down, I saw there in my palm my watch, made of an impossible silver heavier than lead and shining with the reflection of the blaze. Where had it come from? Was it already in my palm when I sunk my hand into the soft, abandoned soot?

A creak sounded behind me and I swung around once more. There, wearing a dark green three piece suit, gray tie, and black hat, illuminated by flame, was a familiar looking man.

"Dad?"

At a bone breaking speed, the figures head snapped up.

I cried out shortly and pressed my back into the glass.

Flesh. Absent were my father's nose, eyes, and mouth, replace by a smooth imitation of a skull wrapped in soft, transparent skin.

Slowly, the creature tilted it's head and silently asked me, " _why?_ "

It took its first step toward me and though I willed my body to move, an invisible set of barbed vines kept me still, tightening around my chest. I watched in horror as its hand, with black, cracked nails, reached for my neck.

A scream ripped itself out of my throat. I jolted up in bed, pressing my fingers into the spot where the monster of my nightmare had gone to grab. My ears began ringing at a shrill, almost inhuman, noise that was bouncing around the room. Soon I realize that the wretched sound was mine. Quickly, I covered my mouth with both hands to stifle the screech and the subsequent sobs that threatened to break free. My loose dark hair fell around my face and down my back.

 _Thunkthunkthunk_.

"Fuck," I trembled. Trying to rid my mind of that… thing's horrid appearance, I pressed my fingers against my eyelids and accepted the hot white that the pressure bloomed. I pushed harder, "Fuck."

 _Thunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunk_.

Over my own ragged breathing, I finally registered the the knocking and the man's voice that accompanied it.

"Marie," more banging, "Open the door."

Open the door.

Open the door?

 _Thunkthunkthunk_.

After stumbling from bed and tugging the tangled sheet from around my torso and legs, I pawed around the back of one of my chairs for a shawl. The blue fabric sliding over my shoulder gave me small comfort. To compensate for unsteady, buckling legs, I leaned heavily against the wall right next to the door, resting my fingers on the lock.

 _Thunkthunk_.

Pull yourself together.

 _Thunkthunkthunk_.

"Marie."

Open the door.

A low light poured through the space opening up between the doorway and its counterpart. Thomas Shelby had one forearm propped above his head on the frame, his cap hanging from his fingertips. His other hand was curled and at the ready to rap on the door again. We shared a few breaths in which I was stricken with his vision.

"I thought you were going to have me take the door down," he took it upon himself to push the door open wider and slide seamlessly around me into the apartment. Feeling magnetized, I tried to match three of his strides with three stumbles of my own before rooting myself temporarily.

The sound of his voice began waking me from the delirium. What time was it? I didn't hear the hum of Garrison patrons. I opened my mouth at the same moment that it occured to me that he had heard me. Humiliation singed my skin and my jaw clicked together. Who else had? With expert precision, the war veteran took inventory of the room. He paused when looking at the angry ripples in the sheets of my bed and the pillows and blanket that were spewn over the ground.

Satisfied, he switched from a prowling predator to a mere man before my eyes. With his hands out in front of him, palms down, he took slow steps to approach me. I jerked away and my back hit the open door.

"Shhh, shhh," he laid his palms cautiously on my biceps once he was near, "Why don't we get some light in here?"

"N-no," I murmured and clenched my fists in my blue shawl to assure distance between the two of us, "Why are you here?"

More swiftly than I was ready for, he brushed the back of his fingers across my cheek and left them hovering for me to see. Tears shone back at me. I shut my eyes in a grimace and swatted his hand away impulsively with a quick _smack_. Realizing the mistake I made, I sputtered and looked back at him fearfully.

His arresting eyes locked me into place, and in that moment I may as well have been an foreign specimen under examination. He grazed the tears over his bottom lip and his tongue swept them up greedily. Not breaking our stare, he reached above me and gave the door a push.

 _Click_.

Perhaps Thomas had never put the predator back in its cage.

Darkness swathed us in its robes. Frost ran up my spine and I began falling back into that hell of blazing fields.

Then Thomas' warm breath fanned over my cheeks. My body shuddered in a disarray of familiarity and simultaneous anxiety; he reeked of rye whiskey and tobacco smoke, and when my eyes adjusted to focus in the dark, all I saw were pupils made of wide onyx mirrors.

"Sit," he instructed and unceremoniously tossed his cap onto my table. His hand reached into the breast pocket of his white shirt and matches rattled in their box as he drew them out. He left me without waiting for compliance and lit a single lamp. The tendons in his hand flexed with a calculated turn of its knob. With some reluctance, I dropped myself into one of my chairs.

"Why are you here?" I repeated, my strength making a slow reappearance. He pulled out another chair and situated himself across the table facing me. Nimbly he opened his case of cigarettes with one hand and tucked one between his lips. Thomas' hair was unkempt, which suited him just fine.

"This is a pub," he lit it with another match, "I came for a drink."

"In the dead of night?" I said in disbelief.

"Good time to have a drink alone," he paused and searched my face with faraway eyes, "You alright?"

Some of the tension in my shoulders released as I mused over his intentions.

"It was just a bad dream," I whispered and shook my head back and forth, "It's nothing."

"It didn't sound like nothing," he used the edge of his thumb nail to scratch his brow, careful to mind the ember of his cigarette. In that moment, I wondered if he was always so poised. I tried to bring myself to resent his composure.

"Why are you awake right now?" I eagerly deflected.

"No reason, really," he chuckled darkly, "Just avoiding some night terrors." This resounding, fragile honestly and was swaddled in dull irony. Only then did I see purple under his eyes and the lines of exhaustion on his face. It felt like a secret. It felt like common ground, and my heart ached.

When I went for his cigarette, he passed it seamlessly as if anticipating the move. Something smug and guilty rolled through me, and I put my lips on the filter where his own had been only moments before. He didn't have on one of his jackets and the top buttons of his shirt were undone. I followed the lines to the collar and found a smear of dark burgundy.

"What happened to your hand?" Thomas asked when I returned his burning vice. The gauze rumpled as I flexed my hand.

"An occupational hazard," I said by way of explanation, "Whose blood you are wearing around your neck?"

He inclined his head and examined me with the ghost of a smirk, "To some, I am the occupational hazard."

"How frightening," I drawled, noting Thomas' familiar evasion of my questions. Mockery aside, I knew it as a fact that he and his brothers were very frightening, indeed. Though I had yet to witness the severity of the Peaky Blinder power over the people who lived there first hand, I did see the deep seeded fear that kept Small Heath in line. Some people were complacent and others stewed in spite. All the same, they bent to the will of the Shelby's.

Thomas gave a throaty chuckle and I wondered how much he had to drink. Afterall, he had his pick of the entire bar and the privilege of self-service. My mouth quirked up momentarily and a thought dawned on me.

"Do you have keys to the pub?" my tone accusatory on all accounts.

"You ask a lot of questions for some who who keeps as many secrets as you do," he taunted.

"Look who's talking, Blinder," I laughed. If my ears did not deceive me, we were entertaining a relatively civil conversation, "I don't suppose you brought the whiskey?"

"No," he languidly stood, "But that can be remedied."

My capricious mind snapped and my mouth went dry. What was I doing? Gulping, I shook my head. _This is not why I am in Birmingham._

"Maybe another time," I said non committedly and picked up my watch from the table, "I have to be up for work in two hours."

His half-hooded eyes flickered below my chin and goosebumps pricked my skin. In our conversation my shawl had dropped down one of my shoulders, revealing the strap of my sleeveless white nightgown; self consciously I reached up and tugged the fabric tighter around me. He watched that same hand through the motions of tucking an errant lock of hair behind my ear.

"I think you should leave," I croaked and stood up quickly to open the door for him.

Without any dissent, he snubbed out the cigarette in a empty ceramic dish on the table, took up his cap, and followed.

"Someday you'll tell me," his voice dropped low when we both paused under the threshold. When we stood like that, the several centimeter height difference was jaring.

One of my brows ticked, "Excuse me?"

"All of your secrets," the air crackled. His eyes were unblinking, "Whatever they may be."

"Think what you'd like," my words were cooler than I had meant them, "Goodnight, Mister Shelby."

The corner of his mouth picked up, and the scowl on my face grew deeper. He bowed his head, placing his cap where it belonged. I thought he may say more, but he hummed a breath and began down the hall.

"Thomas," I called out to him. He paused and looked over his shoulder. Before I could falter, I lifted my chin, "Thank you."

He nodded once, "Good night, Marie."

When I approached my bed again, I scooped my blanket off of the carpeted floor before sinking into the mattress. The soft cotton comforted me as I cocooned myself and tucked a small wealth of it under my chin.

From head to toe, I could feel my heartbeat. Eventually, after shaking the image of the handsome man with disheveled hair at my door, after dismissing the memory of tasting his breath, my temperature cooled. My mind went quiet, except for a steady count of the seconds that my watch measured.

\- o -

 **Author's Note.**

Thank you for all of the follows and favorites! I hope you enjoy this update. These last weeks my head is FULL of ideas for this story. It felt good to get a lot of content outlined.

" _I Jesu namn till bords vi gå. Äta dricka på Guds ord Gud till ära oss till gagn sa fa vi mat i Jesu namn. Amen_. _"_ \- An old, offbeat Swedish prayer before a meal. Roughly translates to: In Jesus' name we come to the table to eat and drink on God's word, to praise God for our blessings, and we receive this food in Jesus' name. Amen.

Here's a reminder that if one of my chapters reaches **ten reviews** before the next one is posted, I will randomly choose one reviewer to receive **an exclusive sneak peek** of the upcoming chapter.

 **Review Responses**.

 _Raging Raven_ – Thank you for reading and reviewing! I hope this update finds you well.

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	6. Chapter 6: Anja, the Torch

" _Thomas," I called out to him. He paused and looked over his shoulder. Before I could falter, I lifted my chin, "Thank you."_

 _He nodded once, "Good night, Marie."_

 _When I approached my bed again, I scooped my blanket off of the carpeted floor before sinking into the mattress. The soft cotton comforted me as I cocooned myself and tucked a small wealth of it under my chin._

 _From head to toe, I could feel my heartbeat. Eventually, after shaking the image of the handsome man with disheveled hair at my door, after dismissing the memory of tasting his breath, my temperature cooled. My mind went quiet, except for a steady count of the seconds that my watch measured._

-o-

"Is this another one of your schemes?"

Her buttercream voice broke my concentration and I nearly dropped the freshly rolled fondant. Sharply breathing in through my nose, I shot her a cutting glare. The mischief glimmering in her eyes told me she was looking for a rise. My chest deflated in a loud sigh.

"What kind of question is that?" I asked as I repositioned my wrists and elbows, preparing to lay the sheet.

"An important one," my sister sat on a stool by the counter, swaying one of her feet to and fro, "You always seem to be up some something these days; getting yourself in trouble." The fondant fell over the edges of the cake with a moist _fwahp_.

"I don't get myself into trouble," I attempted, but my resolve fractured when Anja pursed her lips and tilted her chin at me.

"I don't get myself into _too much_ trouble."

My sister had a good humored chuckle at my amendment, "Don't you think there are easier ways to get what you want?"

"And what do you think I want?" I slung back.

"The world in the palm of your hands?" despite prior protest, she swept her finger in the bowl of fresh strawberry preserves and grinned, "You've wanted sway since the moment you were born. And anyone of us would admit that you wear jurisdiction like a second skin. However..." She trailed off and took the time she spent looking at the ceiling in search of the right words to also lick the sugarly treat from her finger. I couldn't help but roll my eyes.

"You make me sound like a mad dictator," with a flat rib I busied my hands with the task of smoothing the icing to fit the form of the cake, "I just want to be a part of the family business."

Anya frowned, "That's just the thing, Son…"

My back tensed at her tone. In spring of 1911, all of my fathers children were still living at home, and sometimes it felt crowded, but not for lack of space. Regardless of the fact that there was an abundance of love between us, my siblings and I fought a lot growing up, as many brothers and sisters do when they spend so much time together. As children, we roughhoused and screeched. As young adults, the disagreements did not waver in frequency; they only improved in reason, logic, and delivery.

As a young adolescent, each of these arguments felt high-stake to me, like a battle worth sacrifice. I said nothing as I allowed her to decide how bloody the battle would be with her next words.

"I know that we have a skewed view of the world because our _moder_ worked so closely to _taica_. However," she bit her lip, "You know women only can have their power through certain channels, don't you, _soră mai mică_?"

The usual jealousy that would rot in my stomach everytime I was reminded of my sisters time spent with my mother, and the languages she learned, got snubbed out by a deluge of indignation.

"I know you are happy to marry and move on with your life," I sniped, "Since I assume that's one of the _channels_ that you're referring to. But I know I can do more" With knife in hand, I turned the platform and swiftly trimmed off the excess fondant from the cake.

"Peace, Sonja," she smiled the same smile you give a child throwing a tantrum, "You are an academic, a determined innovator, and you are, let's say… steadfast, to put it sweetly."

I wrinkled my nose but couldn't help but add, "Or a mule, to put it frankly."

"Yes," she laughed before smoothing her face over. "But you are also a woman. People will fight you every step of the way. I want to make sure you realize your other options. There are ways to use your womanly charms-"

A loud groan blared from my diaphragm.

"I'm being serious! You may not be able to have the world in your palm, but if you find the right fellow, you can have significant sway in the company. There are swarms of suitors bothering father. You can have your pick of the lot," she soothed. I mused bitterly over these suitors, most of which asked of me because they had already been told no by Anja, who refuted every single request she had ever received without a second thought. Most of these men aimed to marry a powerful, rich man's daughter to advance themselves. The youngest daughters of powerful, rich men usually weren't at the top of the basket.

"I don't want to talk about this again," I complained, "Please."

Though many of his colleagues encouraged my father to have his children marry, Ellis Bray was a man of his word. Many called him sentimental and foolish, but one of the last wishes my mother made before she died was that we make our own choices in matrimony. She thought it just, given their own history. Had my father's father gotten his way, he and my mother, Jaelle Durriken, would never have married. She did not let him forget it.

This isn't to say my father did not pester us about it- myself less than the others because I had yet to turn eighteen. My siblings seemed to take this as reason to compensate for lost opportunities.

"What about Mark Miller? He is a very powerful investor and a kindly man. He's certainly one of the most decent to approach father," a simper curled her lips, "It doesn't hurt that he's handsome as sin."

"Then why don't you snap him up? Oh! I almost forgot. You will only marry for true love," I clasped my hands together, rested them against my cheek and falsely swooned. "That'd your usual bit, isn't it?" Dropping the act, I got back to work and placed the floral cake topper on with ease.

"Don't you think it seems a bit hypocritical to only marry for love and then push me to marry for status?" I grumbled. My sister laughed breezily in return and hopped off her seat to stand beside me and admire my work. Despite my ire, when she wrapped my arm in her own, I did not object. She smelled of the lilacs that were blooming in our yard.

"Yes, well, _I_ want true love. I know you," she bumped my hip with her own, "Want power."

Of the many times Anja had broached the subject, this time I found myself considering it. What if I did marry good-looking Mark Miller? Would it be enough to have an estate in West Brompton? To host soirees where every guest on the list is a connection the Miller's gained over generations of involvement with the automobile industry and the theatre? To have influence on the company through investment agreements and the reputation of a elite businessman's wife?

Quickly I shook my head, "I don't want to talk about my future unless you are helping me think of ways to convince father that he should let me work with him."

My sister squeeze my arm and pulled me to look at her. There was a three year age difference, but Anja fell nearly ten centimeters short of my height. If she were ever mistaken as younger from her height, it was easy to correct the error from the knowing in her eyes, "It's unlikely that he'll ever say yes. You know that, don't you? What if all of this is fruitless, Sonja?"

"Unlikely implies that he may," willing her to see my perspective, I didn't allow myself to waiver from her gaze, "I'll keep proving myself until he does. Women are barred from this sort of work because everyone is _told_ it is men's work. Those same people who tell us that have also told us that it is better to be seen than heard. I've complied with that expectation; I've listened and I learned about people, specifically these businessmen and the work they do. I'm done not being heard! Anja, I have what it takes to contribute to Compass Railways. I know it."

She frowned with her lips pursed. I shifted under her scrutiny.

Finally, she sagged slightly, "And how is decorating the board chair's son's wedding cake proving anything?"

When she said it like that, it did sound like the beginning of a bad joke.

"Well, have you ever met the mother of the groom?"

Silently she indicated she had not.

"Dorothy Broomer is _quite_ the example of an upstanding woman. She runs a weekly luncheon at their estate for all of the wives of her husband's peers. I think if I can get into those lunches I can get some real work done."

"And you are planning on marrying one of her husband's peers?" she teased.

"What? No! I know Misses Broomer has a soft spot for young women and their hobbies. She never had a daughter of her own and has often taken it upon herself to sponsor or otherwise support and mentor young women who live up to her standards of the proper lady. As soon as I breathed a word about decorating, she was hooked. I've been fueling this association for nearly a year, and when the engagement was announced, I immediately offered my services," I left her to rummage around for the cake box.

"And you think this will get you into the luncheon? The cake?" Anja popped a hand onto her waist.

"Not just the cake," I lowered the cake into the container and closed it, "The wedding is happening right at the Broomer estate. What better place to get an understanding of these women than on their own domain? I'm going to go meet the hens in the coop."

" _Taica_ said he was not taking you."

"He was going to take the lot of us to the event until you said you could not," I watched as a wide, pure look came over Anja's face. A spike of suspicion split my temples, but I continued, "Without you, he only trusted the boys to attend- why he does, I will never know since they are bound to cause a ruckus… but I digress."

I reaching into my skirt pocket and brandished a folded cream card in triumph.

"Is that-?"

"Dad may not be taking me to the ceremony, but Misses Broomer invited me herself. This is the time-"

"To join the roost," she cut me off.

I nodded eagerly, "I need to get any of those hens who will listen to hear my advertising plans."

Several beats passed.

"Well?" she asked abruptly.

"Well, what? Shouldn't that be my question?"

"Well, what are you wearing? You must look the part of the proper woman for Misses Broomer," she said matter-of-factly, "More importantly, you have to play the part."

"Dress like a hen and cluck like a hen?" I joked.

She laced her fingers in mine with a laugh and pulled me out of the kitchen, through several halls and up a set of stairs to her room where she helped me pick out a dark cobalt cashmere dress that was spaciously ruched at the bust. A pearlescent silk sash was tightened around my torso before flowing to my ankles from my hip and the high collar wrapped up around my neck, closed with round, silver buttons. After some bickering, she convinced me to switch my daily heeled boots for black patent dress shoes with silver buckles to match the buttons and a pair of her simple teardrop earrings. When she finished fastening my dark hair in a popular French bun- a chignon, she had called it- I had never felt more grown in my sixteen years.

Just as I could feel my stomach drop and my toes grow cold, my sister took my cheeks in her fingers and pinched them.

"Ouch!" I batted at her hands and she laughed.

" _Taica_ would likely kill us if you wore makeup, but you were looking a little pale," she supplied, "Bite your lips to add some color there, as well." In the mirror I admired her beautiful smile that brightened her entire face, lighting her green eyes from the inside out.

"Are you sure I look alright? Is this the right dress…?" I asked doubtfully.

"You look beautiful, _stjärnstoff_ ," she took my face in her hands and smiled warmly, "Besides, you can trust a woman in blue."

The sound of that struck a chord with me, and I filed it away in my mind for my own use. The smile growing on my face was uncontrollable. She leaned up and placed a small kiss on my cheek before stepping back.

"You will find Rhys and Felix when you arrive, won't you?" concern colored her voice, "Some of those men are-"

"Wolves?" I supplied.

"I was going to say parasitical," she admitted.

"I will find them. Knowing the twins, it shouldn't be difficult," I promised while fiddling with the cuffs of my dress, "Thank you for listening… and for helping me with this."

"You are a piece of my heart, Sonja. If I ever try to hold you back, it is because I worry for you," the spotlight of her eyes was blinding. Wrapping her in my arms, I squeezed her tightly.

"What will you be doing today?" I asked. Under my hands the muscles in her shoulders tensed, but she laughed. When we parted she plucked a hair off of the blue dress.

"I told Susie I would come over to help her pick out decor for her nursery," she answered, "When are you leaving for the wedding?"

"Oh!" I exclaimed at the time on my watch, "My cab will be here soon. Wish me luck!"

"You won't need luck. Remember, _det blir aldrig som man tänkt sig_ ," Anja noticed my furrowed brow and translated, "Things never turn out the way you imagined."

"Right," I tried the phrase on my tongue, but cringed at the chopped words, "Tell Susie I said hello and have fun!"

We exchanged good-byes. When I was settled in the cab with the cake in hand, I ran through all the faces, names, and facts I could think of pertaining to the Broomers and their guests.

-o-

The humidity broke over Birmingham, resulting in a thunderous storm. When I pulled back my curtain with a freshly wrapped hand, I could see that Garrison Lane would soon be flooded if the rain continued in the next hours. Laborers were already on their commute, jackets clenched shut in one hand and umbrellas in the other.

Determined not to be late getting to the bakery, I quickly chose a black dress with gray ivy detailing that covered almost every inch of my body. Not willing to soak my trusted work boots, a pair of cheap blue heels ended up on my feet. In moments I threw a change of clothes and my boots into a spare paper bag, then tugged on a beige double breasted rain coat that I had found at the second-hand shop. A dark wool, brimmed hat completed the outfit.

At the door I stopped short with my fingers on the handle. Memories of the previous night rushed back and my whole body flushed. The movement of Thomas' tongue tasting my tears on his lips ran several times in my mind's eye. I slapped my uninjured palm over my face, but this didn't stop me from recalling his scent and the way his body drew in mine.

"No, no, no," I muttered. He was a gangster who had his hands in illegal betting and very possibly stole a shipment of dangerous guns, which resulted in a government investigation. He and his family used force and fear to preserve their reign.

A shiver ran through me.

He was also a man who heard my screams of terror and sought me out. He saw my face and sat at my table. Thomas Shelby left when I told him to.

I did my best to push it all back in my mind. Getting to work on time moved forward again.

Locking the door behind me, I made my way down the stairs into the bar to see if I could find an umbrella laying about. My heels hit the creaky wooden floor boards rhythmically as I hopped down the last few steps and made strides toward the bar. I ducked under the hinged part of the counter and begun rummaging around. Finding nothing, I poured myself a glass of water and drank deeply before refilling and setting it on the bar. Then I faced the pub with a hand on my hip and my spare clothes under my arm.

I gasped sharply through my nose and pressed a hand over my heart at the sight of Thomas Shelby slouched in one of the Garrison's booths. Both of his arms were crossed over his chest and his head was rolled to one side. My breathing slowed and I dipped out from behind the bar with my glass in hand. The closer I got the him, the more clear each of his eyelashes became and the easier it was to hear the breaths that blew out from between his parted lips.

The smell of whiskey permeated the air. I tilted the empty glass bottle on the table with one finger and when I inspected the brand my jaw nearly dropped at its caliber. Thomas let out a deep, heavy breath and my spine snapped straight. Figuring it was the least I could do, I set my water next to his used whiskey glass. Pulling out my watch and clicking the latch, I cursed at the time, pivoted on my heel, and made my way toward the front door.

"Christ!" I wheezed when I saw John Shelby standing in the doorway of the infamous sideroom that the Peaky Blinders worked out of, "Hello."

He said nothing, watching me with his dull blue eyes. John pulled a toothpick from his inner jacket pocket and tucked it between his teeth. The bottoms of his pant legs were damp and beads of water littered his shoes. An uncomfortable amount of time passed between us where nothing was said. Shifting my weight a few times, I broke the silence.

"Right," I breathed, "Well, I have to get to work."

Tucking my head down, I prepared myself to endure the elements.

"It's raining," John called calmly.

The storm rattled the windows as a strong gust blew through Birmingham.

I turned in place to look at him with both of my brows raised, "Yes. It _is_ raining."

His eyes peered over my shoulder as if he could assess the downpour through the pub's frosted windows before informing me, "It's pretty bad out there."

With my fingers pressed to my brow I laughed and muttered, " _Det finns inget dåligt väder, bara dåliga kläder_."

"Wot was that?" John's voice raised slightly. Instinctively, I glanced at the sleeping man, who appeared undisturbed in his drunken slumber.

"There's no such thing as bad weather, only the wrong clothing," I repeated in english.

A slow trace of a grin took his face and he leaned into the side room. Before I could even edge closer to the exit, he stepped forward and held up a dripping, closed umbrella handle out. On its own accord, my head swayed to one side.

"You just gonna stare at it?" he prompted.

I shook my head and took it, "Thank you."

John shrugged one shoulder, "It's noffin. Ain't you gonna be late?"

"Not if I go now," I glanced shortly over my shoulder to take one last peek at Thomas, who had moved his head to the other side, "You have a nice day."

"You, too," John remained in his spot as I stepped out and opened the umbrella.

-o-

Rain did not keep the bakery customers away. People were in and out all morning like most any other day, and Alice greeted everyone who showed up by name, whether or not they brought the weather in with them.

I couldn't help but be more and more impressed with her all the time. In the time that I had worked at the bakery, there wasn't a single customer who Alice did not greet by name. If there was ever a new face, it was only a matter of one or two visits before she was acquainted. Perhaps she had to be twice as hospitable seeing as her husband Robert, on the other hand, was about as articulate as a mustached bear.

Though the Daniels' scolded me that morning for traveling through the sheets of summer rain, they were grateful for the extra hands. Every time that the stream of customers slowed, they had me mopping up the floor.

"I see you have the new _Blinder girl_ swabbing the deck," observed a loud, rickety old man leaned against the oak counter in the late morning as he waited for Alice to finish boxing a dozen sugar cookies. My knuckles went white around the mop handle and I wondered if the man knew that despite his own hardness of hearing, the rest of us were just fine.

From the corner of my eye, I could see the only other customer, a man taking tea and some biscuits, look up from his newspaper to watch. He, too, seemed to pick up on the man's implication.

"Dale," Alice sounded scandalized.

"Come off it now, everyone knows. Everyone wonders just what she does to keep such a cozy spot," he unabashedly leered at me.

The thought of squishing him like a bug under my boot crossed my mind, but I kept my head down and continued mopping the newest puddle at our door. It wasn't the first time I had heard whispers in the bakery about me. It didn't take long for what seemed like all of Small Heath to figure out that the new bakery hand lived above the Garrison Pub by order of the Peaky Blinders.

Alice did not address his accusation, and instead asked stiffly for the man's due. He dropped some coins on the counter and grabbed his box of goods. I pulled myself, the mop and its bucket out of the doorway, then waited for him to pass. The squeaking of his shoes getting closer had my hackles raised. The man took his time to stop right in front of me, leaned into my space, and took a deep sniff. With clenched eyes, I stopped breathing and I willed myself to not lash out.

"You must be an expensive one," he crooned. My concentration broke, and my wide, enraged eyes took in his beady black ones. He gave me an ugly, wrinkled grin before walking out the door.

After the bell stopped ringing, I snatched up the bucket and mop and marched past the counter and Alice into the back room. It wasn't the first time a man had tried to demean me in such a way, and it certainly wouldn't be the last, but nonetheless my blood was boiling. In London, my name was both armour and a weapon I could use against men like that. In Birmingham, things were different.

When I returned to the front floor, Alice put an uncertain hand on my arm.

"I'm sorry Marie, he's just a customer. Dale doesn't know when to keep his opinions to himself," she said.

"It's fine," I insisted, "Really, I understand. Besides, people will talk."

"They will," she agreed, "That doesn't make it right."

I nodded my thanks before gently shrugging out of her touch. Alice did not ask me questions even though I felt the curiosity eating at her. I hadn't told anyone that I was staying without payment because I knew how unbelievable it sounded. For the next hours, I thought about the lecherous look on that customer's face and the inexplicit debt that was piling onto me everyday I stayed under a Peaky Blinder roof.

By the time the lunch rush hit, the rain had subsided and those thoughts were pushed back.

"Just Marie, Just Marie!"

A small, surprised grin stretched on my face as I turned to find Katie Shelby and her oldest brother at the counter, both of whom had wet hair, jackets and shoes.

"Well, hello there!" I propped my uninjured hand on my hip, "What can I do for you two today?"

"Two loaves of rye bread and four sticky buns," John Junior smacked some money onto the table. With an arched brow, I calculated the total, then the change, and went directly to the navy register.

"Be nice, Johnny!" Katie whined and smacked his stomach. Her brother only scoffed. After filling one of our large paper bags with their order, I firmly placed it into Junior's unexpecting arms.

"Hey!" he exclaimed.

Ignoring him, I leaned over the counter and took Katie's hand before folding the change into her palm, "It's been good to see you again, my dear."

"Thanks, Marie!" Katie pocketed the change then turned and called behind her, "You gonna get somefin, Ani?"

Only then did I realize there there was a thin, pale girl standing behind Junior. She had a crown of damp and dark, smooth hair and she kept her eyes trained to the ground with loosely crossed arms. She shot Katie a look and nodded.

The girl leaned up to Junior's ear and murmured something to him while slipping a few coins into the young Shelby's hand. My heart was beating in my ears so loudly, I almost didn't catch Junior's grouchy request.

"Can we 'ave one more sticky bun?"

Katie impatiently snatched the money from her brother and laid the coins out on the counter before excitedly sliding them over to me. I tore my eyes from the quiet girl and let out a breath I hadn't meant to hold.

"Of course," I said. The coins on the counter covered the cost perfectly, I noticed, and deposited them into the register. I turned to retrieve and bag the treat just as the girl- Ani, Katie had called her- tugged on her friends sleeve and whispered to him once more.

"Could you halve it?" Junior asked testily.

"I don't see why not," I stitched a small smile onto my mouth. The flakey pastry crunched under the knife. Carefully I wrapped the two pieces separately and slipped the treat into a bag. When I offered the order to Ani, she first glanced down at the bandage on my hand with pursed lips before looking up at me uncertainty.

Her eyes were an unfamiliar deep, dark brown of turned soil in the spring.

"Come on, you two are slowing me down!" Junior scolded, grabbing Katie's shoulder with the arm that wasn't tucked around the large bakery bag and tugging her away.

She waved at me and called to her friend, "Hurry up, Ani!"

In a blink, Ani took the bag from my hand and was slipping between the legs of adults to catch up to the two baby Blinders. I couldn't help but watch the three of them push their way through the glass front door.

She wore a white and gray dress that was a size too small, and the dirt at the bottom told the stories of many, many days. I was considering the shy girl's long, dark ponytail, when I saw the three of them stop in front of a familiar matriarch.

There Polly was, staring with her endless eyes. The calculating look dwelling there made me believe she had been watching me for a while.

"'Ey, luv. Can I get a long loaf and a meat pie?"

The noise of the bakery slammed into me. I blinked several times and focus in on the man in front of me who was running his tongue through a gap in his mouth where one of his canine used to be.

"Coming right up, sir," I smiled falsely. Before I could move, Alice slipped a bag into my arms. When I checked it, I found the man's request and offered her a grateful look. She nodded in return.

Like many times in my day to day life, I shoved my thoughts back, way back in my mind until I would have time to review.

-o-

Early that evening, I was only three steps out the bakery door when I heard Alice call my name. She stopped beside me and handed me John's umbrella.

"Thanks," I smiled at her shortly.

"Of course," she folded her hands in front of her, "There's been something on my mind, if you don't mind me asking."

"You can ask me anything," I assured without promising the corresponding answers. She chose her words carefully; I could see a debate behind her eyes.

"I know things must be tough since your father passed. Have you-" uncertainty painted her face, "Have you been making peace with God?"

What I had been expecting, I wasn't entirely sure, but it was not _that_. My guilt must have been clear because she spared me from responding by patting my arm affectionately.

"It's just something to think about. Get home safe, love."

"Right. You two have a good evening. I'll see you on Monday," I replied. On my way back to the apartment, my week's pay was heavy in my pocket. I figured I would lighten it after I made myself some dinner.

\- o -

The Garrison was busy every night if the sound coming through my floor boards was any indication. That night I was just another patron at the pub. Henry and I swapped pleasantries, after which he quickly realized I was not in the mood to chat. He had been more than happy to serve me my first two drinks, but after ordering a third whiskey in a matter of two hours, he began lingering near me between serving other customers.

"How about one more, Harry?" I rolled the near empty glass back and forth on its foot, and smiled sweetly up at the barkeep with large ears.

"I don't know about that love," he slapped his rag over his shoulder before leaning one elbow on the bar across from me, "Don't you think you've had enough?"

My shoulders dropped, but my smile lost its sugar and gained authenticity.

"This'll be my last. Don't want to be down here for too long," I told him, hopefully pushing my glass out toward him. After all, I wanted to be on the road by nine.

He gave in with a long heaved sigh and refilled my whiskey. Just as I went to take the glass, he pulled the glass back just out of my reach.

"The Garrison doesn't always attract the greatest company," he said seriously, gesturing with a nod out at the rowdy folks around the pub, "And lasses like you don't come 'round here often."

He left the glass in front of me to go tend to another customer. I covered a silly smile with the palm of my hand, drawing my glass nearer with my free one.

"I know what you're getting at, " I told him when he came near again, "And I want to thank you. But, I grew up with two brothers, remember?"

"Aye, I remember. I bet you they'd want you to be more careful, too."

I frowned, and didn't say anything more. Frank, Earnest, Alice, and now Harry. Each of them had given me at least one warning in the past weeks. Were they omens? The earlier storm was gone, but my own personal rain cloud brewed above my head.

My mother had always scolded me for brooding as a small child. _Envar är sin egen lyckas smed_ , she'd say. Each person is the forger of their own happiness. It was something that I could only live by if I kept in mind that each person in the forger of their own misery, as well.

Right after my father's funerary services, when I started on my mission to find out what happened to Anja, I didn't have a definite endgame in mind. There were so few clues at my disposal, I did not know what to expect- I simply refused to believe she was gone with no explanation. The plan had been to have safeguards in place and make every move in response to new circumstances- and in that case, new players.

When I had first heard of the drunk with twins who befriended John Shelby's children, it seemed unlikely to be fruitful. At the time I thought it was too good to be true. Too _easy_ to be true. I hadn't thought all the way through to what I would do if those twins _were_ my sister's twins.

As the days passed and reality set in, it was clear that Anja's children befriending the baby Blinders would complicate things grately. Sure, I always had the intention to adopt if I found my niece and nephew, but there were already many barriers in sight- barriers that would not be easy to deal with, including the Shelby's.

Besides Birmingham's resident gangsters, the twins father stood between them and me. I had never even seen the man, and my loathing for him was almost unparalleled. My sister was no longer in Birmingham and he was at fault in some way, of that I was sure. What I was unsure of was how I was going to bring the twins home. Did I expect to go knocking on their door with open arms? 'Here's Auntie Sonja to take you away, say goodbye to your _dewdropper_ dad. Let's get you enrolled in boarding school so I can find out what happened to your missing mum!'

 _Yes_ , I thought burying my face in my hands with a groan, _that would go over quite nicely_.

The two conflicting autopsy reports for my father's death indicated police involvement and obstruction of justice. This got me thinking that it was possible, even likely, that Anja's disappearance never made any of the papers because it was swept under the rug by the police of Birmingham. Just how deep did this anti-Bray plot run?

For now, I needed to get inside information on the local force, and that had to preface any advance I make on _Anthony bloody Moretti_. It all would have been better had my father agreed to investigate with me. _The arse had to go and die on me instead_ , I cursed him quietly and numbed the grief in my heart with another gulp of whiskey.

Even on a full, settled stomach, I was nearing my limits. Temporarily saving myself the agony of being uncertain, I shoved everything back yet again. My focus bounced between examining the pubs yellow wallpaper, the red ceramic bricks that lined the infamous Peaky Blinder side room, and the faces flickering in the mirror behind the barkeep.

Rowdy men crowded me at all sides. Unlike Katie's party, I hardly saw any women at all in the Garrison. All of the women I saw were paired, and as the pub became more busy I decided it was not wise to linger.

"Well, what do we have 'ere?"

It was spoken so close to me that I could feel the man's breath on my neck. The stranger was forward enough to sweep my dark curtain of hair over my shoulder, letting his fingers linger purposely at my spine. Obviously, I had chosen to be on my way a moment too late.

"What's a gem like you doing in a shit 'ole like this?"

Ugh. Harry, who was several feet down the bar, and I made brief eye contact; there was a question clear in his face. Instead of bothering to reply to either of the two, I threw back the last of my whiskey, left enough to cover my tab, and pushed away from the bar. The black skirt I had changed into after work swished around my ankles as I turned to make my exit.

"What, you think you're too good to say anyfin? Come 'ere you little-"

He grabbed at my elbow, catching just enough of the white fabric of my blouse to tug me back to him. A woman who had been cozied up to a bloke nearby shrieked when I collided with her, spilling her drink across her dress and the floor.

My assaulter, a wide shouldered man who had no hair, stepped into me until I hit the bar. My boot hit the edge of one of the brass spittoons on the ground, and in the moment I couldn't help but be grateful it hadn't toppled over.

"I just want to get to know you, luv," the antagonist put a spread hand on the bar on either side of me, and my patience was dissolving rapidly.

Instinct took me. I kicked my foot back and swiped my small blade out of my boot.

 _Thunk_.

The folks around us took pause. There was too much going on to have this spat to garner the attention of more than just the people near. Harry, who had begun to stock over to the scene, was frozen in place.

"Damn," I sucked my teeth and speared the man with a steely look, "I missed."

The man suddenly leapt back and held his hand above his head.

"You crazy, fucking bitch!" he bellowed. More heads turned our way.

With a sharp tug, I yanked the blade out of the dark wooden bar and ignored the dull pounding of the agitated burn blisters on my palm. In fact, I hadn't missed anything- my target had been right between his thumb and forefinger. Five Finger Fillet was another game Rhys, Felix and I liked to play, and I had the scars to show for it.

The alcohol felt more apparent once I was on the move. Drunkenly, I slunk closer to the bald man with the blade hilt wrapped in my hand at my side.

"You said you wanted to know me," I smiled sardonically, "I think all you need to know is that my aim is usually _a lot_ better."

The man's face was turning purple with rage and he took a menacing step toward me. He stopped abruptly when two tall men in caps parted the crowd on the left and stepped purposely in front of me without a hitch.

"There a problem 'ere?" John Shelby asked after cooly evaluating the man, who was closing in on himself more with every passing moment. A sense of security tried to wrap itself around me, but I shook it off remembering that the Shelby services came with a price. Nimbly, I slipped the knife back into my boot the same way I had drawn it.

"No, Mister Shelby-"

"'Cause," Arthur boomed, "It looked like you were boverin' our friend Miss Marie."

"Botherin' her?! She tried to fucking stab me," the man said incredulously.

Both of the Shelby's turned to me simultaneously, one with both eyebrows up high and the other with only one. Trying to look nonchalant, I folded my arms over my chest and kept my eyes trained on the bald man.

"What, her?" Arthur guffawed.

John, on the other hand, had a knowing look in his eye. He put his head down, allowing his hat shadow the top half of his face, leaving the small smirk on his face visible, "What did you do to deserve that?"

The man's mouth opened and closed and I could tell that he was desperately trying to figure out what the Peaky Blinders wanted to hear.

"He put his hands on her," Harry piped in helpfully. No sooner did the Shelby's begin popping their knuckles.

"Is tha' right?" Arthur amplified his voice and took a step forward. By this point, there were too many eyes on the situation; I thought I might fall through the floor. I had to get out. Sensing that the Shelby's were bloodthirsty, I cleared my throat to get their attention.

"I'm going to let you three figure this out," I gestured vaguely, "I've got to go."

I slipped between the two Shelby's to step up to the bald man and look him up and down with an unimpressed sneer. Deciding I had nothing else to say to him, I headed out.

"And where are you goin'? Arthur called.

Not stopping my stride, I spun on my heel and called back, "To church!"

\- o -

 **Author's Note**.

Thank you for all the favorites and follows. So, what do you think? How are you guys feeling about the chapters opening with flashbacks? I know they are long, but I promise they are important for setting up the action that is coming your way. I'm in this story for the long haul- I'm anticipating another 20 chapters at least, and I can always use feedback on how I am doing. c:

Hope you all are well and that you enjoyed this update! I totally fell into that finger fillet trope, haha. Also- guys, my written European dialects are terrible. I have no idea how to even begin fixing it.

Jaelle is pronounced, "yah-ehl" in this case.

 _Moder - Swedish for mother_

 _Taica - Swedish for father_

 _Soră mai mică - Swedish for younger sister_

 _Stjärnstoff - Swedish for stardust_

 _Det blir aldrig som man tänkt sig - Swedish proverb:_ Things never turn out the way you imagined.

 _Det finns inget dåligt väder, bara dåliga kläder - Swedish proverb:_ There's no such thing as bad weather, only the wrong clothing

 _Envar är sin egen lyckas smed - Swedish proverb:_ Each person is the forger of their own happiness.

 _dewdropper_ \- a man who sleeps all day and doesn't have a job

Here's a reminder that if one of my chapters reaches **ten reviews** before the next one is posted, I will randomly choose one reviewer to receive **an exclusive sneak peek** of the upcoming chapter.

 **Review Responses**.

 _Cosmo39_ – Thank you for your review! I think you'll really like the next five chapters if you liked these first ones.

 _Aihi154_ – I'm glad you like it! I hope this update finds you soon.

 _Ferallahey_ – I laughed so hard when I read your review. Damn straight Sonja has shit to do! Thanks for leaving some love.

 _RinaBea_ – Building that trust is going to take a little while, but it's going to be good, I promise! I can't wait to get into the meat of this story. Thank you for the awesome review!

RAW: 5 February 2018

EDITED:


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